Déjà Vu
by DarkStrider
Summary: Ever see someone or something and feel like you've done it all before? What do you do when déjà vu is everywhere? How do you act? You keep going and find out why.
1. Chapter 1

Déjà vu Chapter 1

Déjà vu Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different (to a degree)

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," the audio system said. "We will now be descending to Dulles International Airport in Washington D.C. so please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you." Dr. Temperance Brennan started awake as the p.a. system shut off and blinked her eyes to clear the scratchy feeling.

Covering a yawn with her hand, the beautiful anthropologist checked her watch before fastening her seatbelt as instructed.

_Hmm…12:45, Angela should be waiting for me by now. I wonder how she's been? It's been a long trip._ Despite her positive thoughts, Temperance felt that there was something she was forgetting, and the nagging feeling only grew as she felt the plane touch down on the tarmac. Knowing it wasn't anything to do with her possessions, as she had checked her room five times and triple checked her baggage before she left, the anthropologist began pondering just what could be the cause of her unease.

When others around her began to prepare for disembarking, Brennan collected her hand luggage and continued with the tide of humanity toward the arrival lounge to retrieve her suitcase, her thoughts carefully dissecting her feelings. It wasn't the familiar surroundings of Dulles, of that she was certain; rather it felt like she had already experienced returning from Guatemala.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, an eerie sense of déjà vu washed over her, making the hair on the back of her neck and arms rise uncomfortably. Temperance shivered at the feeling and grabbed her suitcase as it drifted past on the baggage claim.

Shaking off the strange feeling, Brennan then began searching for her friend, finally locating her standing before the helpdesk holding open her shirt to expose her pink bra to the young clerk.

"Yeah, hi. The flight from Guatemala?" Angela said. Temperance felt a grin bloom on her face at her friend's actions and shook her head.

"Tell me you tried 'excuse me' first?" Temperance said jokingly, prompting a surprised gasp from Angela, who whirled in her direction and closed for a hug.

"Sweetie! Yes, I did. Welcome home! Oh, are you exhausted? Was Guatemala awful? Was it horribly backward?" Angela said, peppering her friend with rapid-fire questions as they moved toward the exit of the airport. Brennan grinned, having missed her hyper-active friend greatly.

"And yet I was never reduced to flashing my boobs for information," she teased. Angela's eyes widened at the unintentional implication.

"Flash 'em for any fun reasons?" Angela said. Brennan gave her friend an odd look as the sense of déjà vu continued to spike. Opening her mouth, she was about to retort that she had been in a mass grave when she suddenly knew that they, or more specifically she, was being followed. Her mind balked at the unscientific hunch, and Angela noticed the strange expression on her friend's face. "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

Brennan shook her head and turned, her piercing blue eyes immediately landing on a suited man a fair distance away that was approaching their direction.

"You're following us. Why?" Brennan said as he came within arms reach. As he began reaching for her arm without verbally responding, Temperance's hand flashed out, grabbing hold of the man's throat tightly. His eyes bulged and he sought to remove her grip as it began to cut off circulation.

"Oh my god!" Angela shouted. "Attack! Hello? Security? Who runs this airport?" she asked herself incredulously. Brennan did not respond, merely releasing her grip and sweeping the suited man's feet from beneath him, felling him like a ton of bricks. Her instinct was to continue to pin him, but again the overwhelming sense of déjà vu that she felt made her feel slightly queasy, causing her to wobble.

"Oh, not good," Brennan muttered to herself as airport security began to arrive, their weapons drawn warily. Though she meant it about her own condition, Angela snorted.

"Yeah, you can say that again." Brennan eyed the downed man as he coughed and levered himself to his knees, the constant buzz at the back of her mind making her irritable and snappish.

"Are you Homeland Security? Why are you harassing us? What is your problem?" she snapped, making sure to hold up her hands before the security guards decided to shoot her. "And you can put down your guns now," Brennan said to the security guards, who began lowering their weapons slowly until the Homeland Security agent spoke up angrily.

"What is she in charge now? No! I'll tell you when to lower your weapons!" At his words, Brennan felt a wave of vertigo, her stomach roiling uncomfortably, seemingly attempting to make her climb out of her own skin. Not noticing her discomfort, the agent pointed at the carry-on bag that sat by her feet. "Hand over your bag," the agent said. Not willing to argue lest she lose control of her suddenly unruly stomach, Brennan wordlessly handed it over, silently shaking her heat at Angela, who looked at her in concern having noticed something was wrong.

The agent stared at the skull in the bag and though his expression of shock and disgust was decidedly amusing, Temperance felt in no condition to capitalise on the moment.

"Can we just get on with this?" she asked, wanting nothing better than to go lay down. "Angela, don't worry, I'll be back in a bit, okay?" Lips pursed pensively, Angela nodded with clear reluctance.

"Okay, sweetie. Call if you need anything, okay?" she said. Brennan smiled faintly and nodded as the Homeland Security agent indicated she should follow.

Special Agent Seeley Booth felt horrible. Ever since waking up he had had a truly vile headache and, coupled with the newest possible homicide he would have to deal with, he felt that his day would only get worse. Sadly, his suspicions proved correct when he attempted to contact Dr. Temperance Brennan at the Jeffersonian Institute and was thoroughly stonewalled by her assistant.

"Look, can you just _please_ give me her number?" Booth said into the phone.

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Brennan has requested that you not be able to contact her in any way," Zack said, his voice flat and even. "Given that last time you angered Dr. Brennan enough that she resorted to profanity, I see no reason not to comply with her request." Booth glowered at the wall to his office and refrained from grinding his teeth.

"I said I was sorry for that. Please?" Booth asked.

"No, Dr. Brennan's orders were explicit." Zack said again.

"I bet they were," Booth muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry?" Zack said, causing Booth to remember that he was talking to someone.

"Never mind, forget I asked," he said and hung up. booth stewed for several minutes before an evil smile crossed his face and he picked up the telephone. "Hi, Derek? Listen, can you do me a favour? I need a hold for questioning request activated immediately."

"Hi Booth, yeah I'm fine, thanks," the other man said with obvious sarcasm.

"Don't be like that, man. C'mon, I let you in on that terrorist bust last fall," Booth said. The other man sighed.

"I sense this isn't a serious life or death situation, then," he said. Booth grinned.

"Nah, just a little harmless fun, really, like a welcoming back present!" Booth said. Derek chuckled before sighing.

"Alright, fine. What's the target's name?" Derek said.

"Doctor Temperance Brennan," Booth said. Derek drew in a surprised breath.

"The author? I love that book, man," he said. Booth rolled his eyes, thankful the other man couldn't see it.

"Yeah, yeah. So does everyone else I've met," he groused. Derek laughed.

"Of course you'd say that, Agent Lister," he teased.

"Oh shut up. Will you do it?" Booth asked. Derek remained silent for several moments before he spoke.

"Alright. When does she get in?" he asked. Booth looked at his watch thoughtfully.

"About three hours, I think. Not sure. She's on the inbound flight from Guatemala, Obiateki airlines." Derek grunted in acknowledgement and the faint sound of scribbling came through the phone.

"Okay, got it. we'll notify you when she's in custody," Derek said. Booth grinned smugly to himself, imagining Brennan's reaction when she was hauled into the security rooms for questioning. Abruptly he felt a wave of déjà vu wash over him, making his hair stand on end. Booth shot to his feet and gave a full body shiver in an attempt to shake off the feeling; however the sudden feeling left him decidedly unnerved and he decided to grab his coat and arrive at the airport early.

Driving slowly through the heavy traffic, he was nearly there when he spotted a small coffee shop. On a sudden whim he pulled over and entered the coffee shop after a glance at his watch. As he stood in line, his cell buzzed in his pocket. And he answered after fishing it out.

"Booth," he said.

"Agent Booth, we have her in custody," Derek said by way of greeting.

"Great, I'll be there in about twenty minutes, okay?" Booth said.

"Yeah, no problem. There's something you should know though," Derek said, a note of concern present in his voice. Booth paused as the throbbing in his head suddenly became almost deafening. He heard his own voice sounding from a great distance as he spoke.

"What is it?" Booth said.

"She's acting strange. We observed her as she left the arrivals lounge, but she became increasingly pale and uneasy as time went by. She looks like she could faint any second." Derek said. Booth took a step forward in line, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Are we talking about the same Bones, here? I mean, Dr. Brennan? Blue eyes, real pretty, red hair? No-nonsense anthropologist?" Booth said.

"The very same. I think she might need medical attention, Agent Booth," Derek said. An eerie sense of worry sprang up in Booth's chest at the thought.

"I'll be there in four minutes," he said before turning and sprinting for his car, his cell snapping closed before the other man had a chance to respond. With each step Booth's head pounded harder and harder, the pain more intense than any headache he had previously experienced. He wondered at his irrational worry, but he was a man of gut feelings, and his gut had never before let him down, even if it was currently urging him to get to the airport as fast as was humanly possible. He could think about it later.

Within thirty seconds he was in his SUV and pealing away from the sidewalk, sirens wailing as he weaved through the traffic with expert efficiency. As he drove, his mind whirled with half-formed thoughts and emotions as he concocted and discarded theories as to his behaviour. He had worked with her before, sure, and she had been an enormous pain in his ass.

She had no respect for his authority or investigative techniques, dismissing them as mere conjecture without basis in fact, and had continually challenged him over every decision he had made about the case. In honesty, he had been glad when it was over, and had gladly fled the Jeffersonian and the heated arguments therein.

Which meant he could not understand his sudden need to be there. Sure he wanted to get her help with this new case, but this urgent, all-encompassing protective feeling was not something he would at all have previously associated with Dr. Temperance Brennan, no matter how beautiful she might be.

The SUV skidded to a stop right outside the airport with a full minute to spare, the angry honking of other drivers not even registering to his sniper-honed senses as he jumped from the car and barrelled through the crowds to the holding rooms, his badge flashing left and right when people objected to his presence.

Finally, he stood at the door to the holding room, his lungs burning and head thundering viciously. Taking the time to steady himself, and not entirely sure why, Booth took a deep breath and opened the door.

"I've said it before, I'm an anthropologist at the Jeffersonian, not a sociopath," Brennan stated tiredly, feeling her stomach flip over for no reason. For the past ten minutes the Homeland Security agent had been grilling her on why she had a human skull in her hand luggage, and all she cared about was getting home and getting rid of the monstrous headache that had started as soon as she entered the room.

Before the agent could reply, the sound of the door opening reached her ears, and something she could not identify made her turn her head toward the sound. There, looking like he had just run a marathon to reach her, was Special Agent Seeley Booth. Rather than the familiar sense of annoyance and dislike however, a sudden inexplicable sense of joy made her entire body tingle.

And suddenly, her headache and nausea disappeared like smoke before the breeze. upon seeing her sitting there, Booth also suddenly stood straighter, his eyes widening slightly and a faint smile tugging at his lips. Then his expression morphed into confusion.

"What the hell is going on?" Brennan said, a sudden, familiar sense of anger filling her. She stopped in astonishment however, when Booth mirrored her word for word, his tone matching her own.

"That's creepy," the Homeland Security agent muttered to his female companion, who nodded in agreement. Brennan glowered at him, suddenly feeling very much like her old self, and rounded on the speaker furiously.

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, major crime investigation, D.C. Bones identifies bodies for us," Booth interrupted before she could speak. She glowered at him, deliberately ignoring the pleased flutter she felt in her stomach at hearing his voice.

"Don't call me Bones! And I do more than identify," Brennan said, then paled as she felt the incredible déjà vu again. A glance out of the corner of her eye showed that Booth had gone white and was staring at her strangely. "What?" Brennan asked, suddenly feeling tired again.

"Say that again," Booth demanded, taking a step forward. Temperance frowned at him in confusion.

"Say what again?" she said.

"What you just said! 'Don't call me Bones!'" Booth quoted. Temperance glowered.

"Don't call me Bones!" she snapped, standing up. The resulting dual mix of bizarre familiarity, as if she had said the same thing hundreds of times before, and nauseating déjà vu made Temperance wobble and slump ungracefully back into her chair. "Ugh," she uttered, putting a hand to her head.

At the door, Booth grabbed the door handle to keep himself standing up as the room span around him, only Bones keeping still in his sight.

"I don't know what's going on," Booth said, "but I'm gonna find out. She's coming with me, okay?" The two Homeland Security agents nodded, identical expressions of puzzlement on their faces. "C'mon, Bones," Booth said, gently helping her to stand with an easy familiarity that made some distant part of his mind begin screaming in shock. Too tired to wonder about it herself, Brennan nodded and gathered her things from the table, Booth grabbing her suitcase and gently steering her toward the door with a hand on her lower back.

"Don't call me Bones," she added softly as they walked down the hall.

"Okay, Bones," Booth said. Brennan snorted and smacked him on the shoulder. "Ow! What the hell, Bones?" He paused then, seeing the extremely unnerved expression on her face as she stared at her hand. "What is it?" Booth said. Temperance licked her lips nervously.

"I don't know. This entire morning has been…bizarre, to say the least. And this? It's like we've"

"Known each other for years," Booth interrupted, a pensive frown on his face. Temperance nodded, an expression of revelation on her face.

"Yes, that's it exactly. At least since you arrived. But I've felt such an overwhelming sense of déjà vu ever since the plane touched down that I think I'm going to go insane!" Brennan said. Booth started walking again, this time wearing a thoughtful look.

"Okay, let's get your stuff in the car first, okay?" Booth said. Temperance allowed a smirk to twitch at her lips. "What?" Booth said.

"You said 'okay' twice," Temperance said. Booth eyeballed her in response.

"So?" he said.

"It's just funny, that's all," Temperance said as she walked out of the airport doors.

"How is that funny, Bones?" Booth asked as he opened his rear door and slid the suitcase onto the back seat. Looking amused, Temperance deposited her carry bag on the floor and moved to open the passenger side door.

"It just is, Booth. I find your speech patterns to be endearing." As soon as the words left her mouth she froze, her face twisted into an expression of incredulous surprise.

"Really?" Booth said, feeling his eyebrows climb for his hairline.

"Well…no, I mean…I, I don't know what I mean!" Brennan groaned in frustration. "God this is so frustrating!"

"Tell me about it," Booth consoled, sliding his keys into the ignition. At her curious glance, he elaborated. "I feel like I've known you for years, even though we only worked together for a month last year."

"We certainly didn't get on," Brennan pointed out. Booth nodded, absently pulling away from the curb and navigating his way into the traffic.

"We fought like cats and dogs, Bones," he said. Brennan frowned slightly.

"I don't…" she cut off and held her head with a wince. "Wait…I do know what that means!"

"Guess miracles do happen, eh, Bones?" Booth joked, a wide, easy smile on his face. Temperance returned the smile for a moment before a dark frown crossed her face.

"This isn't possible. We haven't spent more than half an hour in each other's company for a year. The ease which we appear to be getting along is more indicative of two people who have been around each other for substantial amounts of time and actually like each other."

"What, Bones, you don't like me?" Booth said, looking slightly hurt.

"This is what I mean! The last time we saw each other, Booth, we got into an argument and you left, saying that you were glad you wouldn't have to deal with me ever again!" Brennan said with an emphatic gesture. "We argued about everything, Booth! This sudden ability for us to…to joke and laugh is not normal!"

Booth sighed, carefully pulled over and switched off the engine of the SUV.

"Okay, I get what you mean. Let's just do a little experiment, yeah?" he suggested. Temperance nodded, now on familiar territory. Experiments to determine a hypothesis were her bread and butter. "Cool. So it feels like we've known each other for years," he said, pausing to allow Temperance to nod affirmatively. "So, despite how impossible it is, there's an easy explanation. You don't know me, I don't know you. do you agree?"

"Yes," Temperance said.

"So if we ask each other questions about ourselves, it proves this is stupid. Like Sherlock Holmes said 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth,' right?"

"Actually it was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, writer of Sherlock Holmes, who said that," Brennan pointed out.

"That's not the point, Bones," Booth said, obviously fighting a grin.

"Okay, so let's start. What's my favourite flower?"

"Daffodils," Booth answered immediately, and then blinked in surprise. "Are they?" Temperance looked perturbed, but nodded.

"Your turn, Booth," Temperance said.

"What's my favourite restaurant?" Booth asked.

"Wong Fu's. Where is that? I've never heard of it," Temperance said.

"It's downtown. I go there all the time, and I've never seen you there. This is disturbing," he admitted softly. "Let me ask another one: who is my favourite person?"

"Your son. You have a son?!" Temperance exclaimed, her mouth forming an 'o' of surprise. Booth had gone pale.

"Your turn," he said, deftly avoiding the question. Temperance licked her lips, suddenly realising that her heart was thumping in her chest and that her palms had gone sweaty.

"What's my favourite animal?" Temperance said, almost knowing his answer before he spoke.

"Dolphins. They were also your mother's," he added quietly. Temperance raised a hand to her mouth in shock, knowing that not even Angela knew that piece of information.

"My god, how did you know that? How do you know that!?" she demanded, suddenly feeling cornered and exposed.

"I don't know!" Booth barked. "How did you know I have a son?" he returned. Before she could answer he raised a hand to cut her off. "Don't answer, I know you can't. You don't know the answer, and neither do I. Somehow we both know things about each other that we either have never told or are limited to a very small number of people."

"But it's impossible! I've never told _anyone_ that my mother liked dolphins!" Temperance said. Her mind span out of control as she tried to grasp a rational explanation of why he knew such intimate details about herself, but came up empty, only managing incongruous and increasingly fantastical hypothesis. "They could be lucky guesses!" she insisted, ignoring Booth's doubtful look. "Tell me something else about myself," Temperance ordered and crossed her arms expectantly.

"C'mon, Bones. What's this gonna prove?" Booth said, but only received a stubborn look. "Alright fine," he sighed. "Lets see…you find intelligence soothing, you believe marriage is an outdated social practice, you believe that god cannot exist because of all the evil things you have seen in the world. Uh…you like jazz, though I have no idea why, and have Foreigner in your CD collection." Booth wrinkled his brow as he sought for information he had no way of knowing he had. "Okay, it's easier to reel stuff off than think about it. The more I do, the harder it is. So here we go again: you have a stainless steel fridge, you don't have a TV and you find people aren't very scary when you poke them in the eye. Okay now that last one was just weird."

"It's true," Temperance said. "All of it. It's all true. I can't believe it." she stared forward blankly, her mind stuck on that since unequivocal fact. Everything he said was true, and it made her want to run as fast as she could.

"Bones," Booth said, bringing her attention to his dark eyes, "I'm as weirded out as you are, alright? It doesn't make sense. You know things, I know things. But do me a favour?" Temperance nodded. "Close your eyes and just breathe in and out for a moment. Then tell me straight, does it really, truly bother you? Ignore that it's unscientific, that it's impossible. Tell me how you feel."

Temperance licked her lips uncertainly, but the calm, insistent tone in Booth's voice made her trust him. A tiny portion of her mind railed at the feeling, but she shut it out with determination.

"Okay," she said and settled back. Several slow breaths later, she felt much calmer. Two parts of her warred for dominance at the revelation that Booth knew _her_ and not just things about her life and past. "Does it bother me that you know things about me that I've not told anyone? Yes, it does, but it bothers me because I haven't told you, not because you know. Does that make sense?" she asked, opening her eyes.

Booth nodded, a faint grin on his face.

"Yeah, that makes sense, Bones. So are we cool?" Booth felt slightly uncomfortable asking Brennan the question, but realised that he really did want her to be okay with working with him. At that point it occurred to him that he hadn't actually told her that there was a case, she had just accepted that he had turned up to collect her and went with it. "Okay, today is just plain bizarre. We've entered the twilight zone, people."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan admitted. Booth paused; suddenly filled with a foreign nostalgia he couldn't identify, and allowed it to wash forth in a burst of laughter. "Booth! Stop laughing! Stop it, Booth! It's not funny!" But it was, and the Special Agent's contagious laughter eventually forced a smile onto her face and a slight giggle past her lips.

"So, we're cool, right?" Booth said after he recovered, absently wiping the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Her chest still heaving in small fits of laughter, Temperance nodded. "Graet. Uh, I should apologise, by the way. I set that up back at the airport."

"I know," Brennan said, "it had you all over it. It was a very transparent attempt to gain my goodwill." Booth frowned, feeling insulted.

"It was not transparent!" he retorted, but relented under her amused gaze. "not to most people," he amended sulkily. Brennan grinned.

"I'm not most people," she said. "And why did you set it up anyway? You'd better have a good reason. I haven't felt this bad in a long time. Do know how bad my headache was?"

"Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea," Booth said. "I had what felt like the entire rhino population of the world running over my head before I came in. as for why I set it up, I think I've got a case, a decomposed corpse was found in Arlington National Cemetery this morning."

"I should hope so," Brennan said, "it's full of decomposed corpses. It's a cemetery," she added sarcastically. Booth ignored the now familiar sense of déjà vu and waved away the poor joke.

"Not funny, Bones. I tried going through the proper channels, but your assistant stonewalled me." Brennan grinned, imagining her super-intelligent assistant calmly explaining over and over that he wouldn't help the FBI agent.

"He's a good assistant," she said and favoured Booth with a large smile, having decided not to make an issue of the strange camaraderie that had sprung from nowhere. It was certainly more preferable to the stressful power struggle they had had previously.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Booth said. "Anyway, I need your help."

"And why should I?" Brennan asked, an eyebrow arching up curiously. Booth spotted the twinkle of amusement in her eye.

"You're gonna make me beg!" he said.

"Yup."

"Don't make me beg, Bones," Booth pleaded. Temperance gave him a haughty look at the moniker. "Alright fine, what's it gonna take?" Booth said.

"Full participation," Temperance said.

"Done," Booth said, realising immediately that working with the anthropologist would be much easier this time around.

"Ah, ah!" Brennan forestalled, "not just lab work. Everything."

"We'll be Scully and Mulder," Booth said, realising a moment later that Brennan wouldn't get the reference. "I know, I know," he said, "you don't know what that means. It means we'll be partners, okay?" Brennan looked thoughtful, and had Booth not had the advantage of their sudden camaraderie, he felt he would likely have gotten annoyed. "Stop playing," he cajoled, causing her to pout slightly.

"Okay, agreed," Temperance said, "lets get off." Booth snorted and smothered a grin as he started up the big SUV again.

"It's get going, Bones. Get off is something else."

"Oh? What? Aren't we getting off?" Temperance said innocently. Booth palmed his face in one hand.

"We aren't having this discussion," he said.

"C'mon, Booth," Temperance whined, "tell me what it means!"

"Lord, give me strength," Booth prayed under his breath. It was going to be a long day.

"Booth!"


	2. Chapter 2

Déjà vu Chapter 2

Déjà vu Chapter 2

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different (to a degree)

"So what's the hitch?" Temperance asked as they walked through Arlington National Cemetery.

"It's 'what's the sitch,' Bones. As in situation. Anyway, routine landscaping. They dropped a load by the…pond." Booth paused and exchanged a glance with Brennan as déjà vu once more washed over them. "Man, how often is this gonna happen?" Booth complained.

"I only need a bit more data to form a hypothesis," Brennan pointed out.

"Like what, Bones?" Booth said.

"So far the déjà vu has occurred at the airport and when I've said certain things. Things that we both feel I say all the time, like 'don't call me Bones.' And don't, by the way."

"Don't what?" Booth asked, looking smugly amused at the stink-eye Brennan shot in his direction. She sighed and shook her head in exasperation.

"I think I'm going to hate, today," she muttered to herself. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think it may happen when things we are 'familiar with' occur. Though I don't understand how that relates to this situation," she added with a frown. Booth nodded as the pair approached the medico-legal lab truck where Zach was setting up. "Hi Zach," Temperance said.

Zach glanced at the anthropologist blankly for a moment before speaking.

"This eco-warrior look works for you," he said. Brennan and Booth grimaced and held their heads.

"This has got to stop," Booth muttered. Temperance nodded in agreement, but waived off Zach's inquisitive look.

"Booth, remember my assistant? Zach Addy," she said. Booth nodded, the alien familiarity he felt making him feel awkward.

"Yeah, I remember. Listen Zach, uhm…" he trailed off and glanced at Temperance helplessly, who immediately grasped the cause of his unease.

"Zach," she forestalled as her assistant opened his mouth, "Guatemala was fine, I need water readings and temperature readings from the ground, okay?" He nodded and began walking off.

"Right away, Dr. Brennan."

"Bones, this is gonna drive me crazy," Booth said and gestured at his head. Temperance pursed her lips and sighed softly.

"I know, but until we can figure out what is going on, it's best to proceed as normal. Perhaps such feelings could prove useful, such as with ourselves?" she said. Booth made a soft noise of agreement and gently steered his partner toward the awaiting boat with a hand to the base of her back.

"People will think that's strange, you know," Temperance said softly.

"What's strange?" Booth asked.

"How comfortable we are with each other. It's not natural for two people, who were so adversarial the last time they met, to be so…comfortable," she finished lamely. Booth smirked, but discretely removed his hand when he spotted the odd look on Zach's face.

"That kid's already on to us," he said. Temperance glanced at Zach quickly, just catching him returning back to collecting samples.

"He is highly intelligent, though not particularly familiar with interpersonal relations," she admitted. "But he will certainly deduce that our…um…" she floundered, searching for the right word.

"Dynamic?" Booth suggested.

"Yes, our dynamic has changed. There was a great deal of hostility last time," Temperance said as they carefully clambered into the boat.

"Yeah, true. But still, he's weird," Booth said.

"He's very intelligent and has excellent reasoning skills," Temperance defended flatly.

"Okay, sheesh, bite of my head why don't ya?" Booth said. Temperance glared, but eventually just rolled her eyes, aware now that her new partner just was used to different sorts of people. "Wow, I was expecting you to say something," Booth said with a smile as they moved out into the pond.

"I will if you want," Temperance said, giving him a pointed look.

"Shutting up now," Booth said as he hurriedly opened the surveillance equipment and connected it to the waterproof monitor.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" Temperance said.

"It's like pornography, you'll know it when you see it," Booth said absently, looking up when Temperance echoed him word for word. "Okay, stop doing that," he said.

"I can't help it," Temperance snapped, crossing her arms defensively. Booth sighed and scrubbed at his face wearily, feeling stressed.

"I know, it's just…creepy," he said.

"You've said that several times today," Temperance said, her tone deliberately light.

"Doesn't make it less true though," Booth said with a wan smile. Agreeing, Temperance remained silent and turned her eyes to the screen, which currently displayed several speciments of pond life and dim water. After several silent minutes of searching, the camera located the decomposed remains.

"Bingo baby," Temperance murmured. Booth bit off his response as the hairs on his neck rose.

"Gimme a break!" he whined. "Can't we go five minutes without feeling nauseous?"

"Maybe you're pregnant," Temperance teased. "Are your nipples overly sensitive and swollen?"

"Oh my god! You did not just say that! What is it with you and talking about nipples and teats?" Booth growled. Temperance gave him a dimpled smile of amusement, realising that she hadn't, but it would be something she'd say had she the opportunity.

"Teats?" she asked mischievously, her blue eyes twinkling.

"Moving on," Booth muttered, "let's just get Ms. Eller out of the pond and…?" he stared at the monitor numbly as he registered the words that came out of his mouth. "Bones, did I just…?"

"Yes," Temperance said, "yes you did. And I know you're right, it _is_ Cleo Eller. That worries me. We have no way of knowing if we are correct, but I already know that we will be." She stared into Booth's deep brown eyes worriedly. "Booth…what does this mean?"

"I think we need to tell someone," Booth said, "this has gone past weird, past creepy and straight into the Twilight Zone with a heavy dose of what the fuck thrown in for good measure." Temperance nodded, her own thoughts suddenly kicked back into high gear as her mind teased out a possible answer to their questions. However, considering the possibility it might be a correct hypothesis, she in no way wanted to contemplate what it might mean.

"Let's just get her out," Temperance said, her tone grim.

Temperance barely needed to glance at the skeleton laid out on the tarp to make an identification, and her resulting verbal confirmation of the remains' physical characteristics after only moments left Zach staring at her in open mouthed astonishment.

"I can see I have a long way to go in order to reach your level of ability, Dr. Brennan," the younger man said, obviously highly impressed. Temperance exchanged a significant glance with Booth above her assistant's head before speaking.

"Don't doubt yourself Zach. I just happen to have…extensive experience. It's something you will gain as time goes by. You're a very talented assistant." Zach gave a pleased smile and continued snapping pictures as Temperance moved closer to Booth. "Booth, I know this. I know how she died, why her face is staved in, who-"

"Whoa, Bones, cool your jets, okay?" Booth interrupted. "I know, I know the same things you do! What we got to do now, Bones, is check the evidence. Right?" he asked. Temperance nodded, tiredly rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Follow the evidence and do not form foregone conclusions based off of conjecture. Or prescience," she added bitterly. A gentle, but heavy hand on her shoulder made her look up at Booth curiously.

"This is screwing with both of us, Bones," Booth said gently, "but we're still investigators. Or scientists, in your case," he added. "C'mon we both need a break. Let's get some coffee," Booth suggested. Nodding, Temperance crossed to Zach and gave him a few orders before returning to her partner.

"Your forensics lab can take the plastic and the chicken wire; we'll take the rest, okay?"

"Right. Now let's get some coffee, my head's gonna explode," Booth said. Brennan smiled as they walked through the sunshine back to the SUV.

The drive to the diner had been quiet; both of them lost in deep thought as Booth mechanically navigated the roads, stops and turns. Finally he pulled up on the street adjacent to the Royal Diner and turned to his partner.

"You okay?" Booth asked. Temperance offered an odd half smile, half grimace.

"I guess so. I feel like I'm…drifting," she said. Booth nodded as they exited the car and began walking the short distance to the main doors.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Weird feeling," he added, holding the door open for Temperance as she entered.

"I feel I should point out how patronising that is, but it wouldn't do much good, would it?" Temperance said.

"Not really. Can I get two coffees here?" Booth said to the waitress as they sat down. "One with cream and sugar, one black, two sugars." The waitress nodded and moved off. "What?" Booth said, finally catching the look Temperance was giving him.

"I really, really want this to be over. There is no possible explanation for this and I'm close to becoming irrational."

"You know what, Bones? Irrational sounds real good right now. Getting drunk sounds better, but that'll have to wait 'til later," Booth said

"Why? I'm all for professional integrity, but this is so far from normal I think we can be excused just once," Temperance said.

"Let's just finish our coffee, okay, Bones?" Booth said. He sat back and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "At least the headache is gone," he pointed out. Temperance nodded in full agreement, briefly nodding her thanks to the waitress as she delivered their coffees before taking a sip and giving a soft groan of contentment.

"Good coffee," she said, prompting Booth to sample his own cup.

"Mmm…they do good stuff here," he said. Silence descended again, the two of them greedily draining their cups until nothing remained. "So…you really want to get steamed in the middle of the day?" Booth asked.

"We've earned it. Let me just call into the lab and let Angela know. She'll go spare if I don't." Booth grinned, looked faintly confused, and then massaged his head in quick succession.

"Hurry up. I need to get drunk," he said darkly. Temperance nodded and pulled out her phone. Two rings later, and Angela picked up the phone.

"Angela Montenegro," she said.

"Hey Ange," Temperance said.

"Sweetie! What happened at the airport?" Angela asked eagerly.

"I'll tell you later, it's a long, long story. And right now I really just want to get drunk. So I am. I won't be in the rest of the day. Just get Zach to have a look at the bones and have Hodgins analyse the particulates. I'll look over everything tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait, wait. Back up. You're blowing off work to get drunk? Since when? And tell me what did it so I can do it again!" Angela said.

"Like I said, it's a long story. I'll tell you tomorrow," Temperance said

"Do you want company?" Angela asked, the note of obvious hope in her voice making Temperance smile.

"No, it's covered. See you tomorrow!" Temperance said, ringing off just as the very loud exclamation of surprise came from the tiny speaker. Booth looked highly amused, his brown eyes twinkling madly.

"That was mean," he said as they rose. Temperance smirked and shook her head.

"No, she'll enjoy the conjecture as much as if I told her who I really was with. Besides, she'll be dying to know tomorrow."

"Won't that be a pain if you have a hangover?" Booth asked, once more opening the door of the SUV for his partner and blithely ignoring her scathing look as he did so.

"It's worth it," Temperance said, looking a little vindictive.

"Bones! How deliciously evil of you," Booth teased. Temperance gave in to a momentary impulse and stuck her tongue out at the FBI Agent, who laughed and started the large car.

"Next stop," he began.

"Wong Fu's!" Temperance completed with a cheer.

Ten minutes later and they sat at the bar of Wong Fu's, waiting for the barman and owner to come over. He smiled when he caught sight of Seeley and made his way over.

"Hey, Seeley, who's your friend? Gotta say this, she's tall," he said. Booth smiled as he mounted the barstool and sat down.

"Sid, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan," he said. Temperance gracefully duplicated his motion and nodded politely at Sid.

"The sign says Wong Foo's," she said. Sid grinned.

"Family name changed at Ellis Island," he explained, then glanced curiously at Booth. "You're not normally here this early. Lunch was two hours ago. You want food?" Booth shook his head.

"Nope, just a bottle of Jack. It's been a weird-ass day and we're going to get toasted."

"At three o'clock?" Sid said, looking surprised.

"You've not had our day," Temperance said flatly, her expression one of long suffering patience about to be lost.

"Right. Bottle o' Jack, coming up. I'll get you something to drink," Sid added to Temperance, who frowned in annoyance as he walked away.

"But I didn't order," she muttered. Booth looked amused.

"It's his thing. You don't order, he just brings you what you want," he explained. Temperance nodded, once again conflicted at her easy acceptance.

"I hope it's strong," she muttered. Booth pulled the bottle of Jack Daniels that Sid had placed before him with a tumbler closer and poured himself a glass.

"It will be," he placated. True to form, Sid arrived with a bottle of thirty percent proof vodka and a carton of orange juice, droplets of water beginning to condense upon its side.

"Voila," he said, placing it before the anthropologist with a flourish. Temperance gave him a grateful smile as he poured her a generous glass and slid it over.

"Thanks, Sid," she said. The owner of Wong Foo's waved away her thanks and walked off, humming a tune under his breath. The anthropologist looked at her drink for several seconds, feeling her partner's eyes on her all the while, then tipped it back and swallowed the entire glass.

"Steady on, Bones!" Booth said, "we've got all day!" Temperance glared and refilled her glass stubbornly.

"I can't get drunk quick enough," she said. Booth rolled his eyes and knocked back his own glass, smacking his tongue at the harsh taste of the alcohol and the hot burning feel as it slid down his throat.

"Fine, just let me catch up," Booth said, tilting his refilled glass toward hers. "Bottoms up, Bones," he said. The pair clinked glasses and downed their second drink together. "We'll be hammered in ten," Booth joked. Temperance disagreed and shook her head.

"Less, lunch was two hours ago, remember. And I only had airline food," she muttered and made a wretched face. Booth laughed, already feeling the pleasant buzz from the alcohol.

"I think you're right, Bones. I'm already buzzed."

"I'm disappointed, Booth. A man of your stature and body mass should be able to handle alcohol much better than that!" Temperance said. Booth frowned.

"Are you calling me a lightweight, Bones?" he asked.

"But you're not light weight. In fact I estimate you are fairly heavy, given that your body structure indicates you are well muscled," Temperance said. Booth snorted into his drink, prompting a round of spluttering as he attempted to stop laughing and coughing at the same time.

"Lightweight is a term for someone who handles alcohol badly, Bones," Booth said after he recovered. He shook his head and failed miserably at suppressing a fond smile, his increasingly inebriated state putting him in a jovial mood. He took another pull from his glass, draining the amber liquid and tilting the bottle before him to get some more, absently taking note that Brennan had foregone the orange juice for straight vodka.

"That's my Bones," he murmured to himself and took another drink.

"What? _Your_ Bones, Booth?" Temperance asked archly, her brows raised in slightly overacted surprise. Booth stared at her blankly, realising he hadn't been as quiet as he thought.

"Uh…"

"Very intelligent, Booth," Temperance said, now looking amused as she took a small shot of vodka. "You don't own me, Buster," she added blithely, wagging her finger in his direction. Booth laughed again.

"Buster?" he gasped out between laughs. "You said 'buster!'" Temperance looked piqued at his amusement and poked him in the chest.

"Yeah? So? I can call you buster if I want to, Buster," she deliberately enunciated, poking him all the while. Booth frowned and rubbed his abused chest.

"Hey, no poking!" he whined, "or I'll poke you!" Brennan raised her brows at his comment, her vivid blue eyes mercurially sparkling with amusement.

"Oh you will, will you?" she said, downing another shot of vodka. Booth blushed as he caught his accidental double entendre and covered it with a heroic swallow of whiskey. Temperance laughed at his embarrassment. "Aw, that's so cute! The big, bad FBI agent is shy!"

"I'm not shy, Bones, just prudent!" Booth defended, sulking on his stool.

"Prude," Temperance teased softly around her glass, pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol.

"I am so not a prude, Bones," Booth said before having more whiskey.

"You're hiding behind you whiskley," Temperance pointed out. Like many drunk people around the world, Seeley Booth found her slight slur hilarious, and desperately clamped down on his urge to howl with laughter in her face. He succeeded for the most part, but turned red and made strangled sniggering noises behind his hand. "Don't laugh at me!" Temperance said, slapping him on the arm to display her displeasure. "It'snot my fault I'm drunk," she reasoned.

Her second slur made Booth loose control and he hunched over the bar, shaking with laughter.

"I'm, I'm sorry, Bones," he gasped, "but it's so funny! Go on, say a big word, like uh…metalargals."

"That's not a word, Booth. it's metatarseles…um," Temperance blushed at her error, and Booth sniggered as he raised his glass, the pleasant flush of inebriation spread across his cheeks.

"Awesome, Bones," he said and took a swig. Temperance reddened further, but felt pleased at his praise, so gently pushed his shoulder.

"Oh shut up," she groused. From down the bar, Sid watched with amusement, as well as a smidgen of trepidation. He knew Booth had a girlfriend, he had even brought her to the bar once, but he had never seen the FBI agent this relaxed and happy before. It was a recipe for either trouble or the most rewarding experience for any man and woman, besides sex, he added to himself.

"I think we're drunk, Bones," Booth said, eyeing his slightly blurry glass with conviction. Temperance nodded exaggeratedly in agreement.

"Yup. Told you it'd be less than five min'ts," she said. Booth nudged her with his shoulder and gave her a wide grin.

"That's cute," he said. Temperance looked at him in clueless confusion.

"What is?" she asked.

"When you slur," Booth said, pointing at her with his finger over his glass. She gently pushed it aside and gave him a pointed look, her eyes lidded.

"I don't slur," she said, "I mispronounce." Her stern act was ruined by the grin that tugged at her lips every few seconds. Booth grinned and held up his hands and glass.

"My mistake," he said. Temperance nodded victoriously, looking smug, and eyed the half-full bottle of vodka.

"I'm bored of vodka. Do you have South American Eroule?" she said to Sid, who shook his head. "Damn. I want some," she muttered.

"Where are you gonna get that, Bones?" Booth asked.

"I have a stash at my place," Temperance said in response.

"Oh. What's it like?" Booth said. Temperance gave him a wicked smile that made his eyes widen.

"Strong," she said. "Too strong for you," she sang mockingly. Booth sat up straighter at the blatant challenge.

"Nothing's too strong for Seeley Booth!" he said. "I'm the man!" He thumped his chest for emphasis and made macho poses that made Temperance giggle briefly before she smothered them.

"You certainly are," she mumbled, eyeing his defined pecks. "Well if you think you can handle it then fine, I'll allow you to follow me home," Temperance announced airily. Booth stared at her, open mouthed.

"Allow?" he said. "You'll _allow_ me to follow you home?" Temperance nodded and deliberately sashayed her way toward the door.

"Yus," she said seriously. Booth laughed and dropped several bills on the counter before jogging after his partner, a distinct waver in his step.

Outside, Temperance was frowning and digging through her purse.

"What up, Bones?" Booth said, perching his chin on her shoulder. Absently Temperance smacked him in the face before answering.

"Looking for my cell," she muttered. "Need a cab."

"Oh yeah," Booth said, gingerly rubbing his abused nose. "What's with you and hitting, that is so not fair."

"It's only your adh'rance to pop'lar stuff that keeps you from doing it back," Temperance said, her eyes widening as she found the aim of her search. "Got it!" Quickly she flipped it open and dialled the number of a taxi cab company and ordered a taxi.

"Popular stuff, eh, Bones?" Booth teased, an easy grin settling across his face as he nudged Temperance with his shoulder. She swatted at him in retaliation, missing when he stepped forward into her space. "Missed," he said, his grin going full force. Slightly unnerved at his close proximity, Temperance turned pink and put her hands on his chest.

"Back off, Mr Man," she threatened, "or I'll kick your ass!" Privately she wondered if she really would hit him, but he obviously believed her, as he moved away quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "Wuss," she said, to take the sting out of the threat. Booth laughed guiltly.

"You hit like a man," he said by way of explanation and laughed at her outraged expression.

"Take that back!" Temperance said.

"What, thacha hit like a man? Whass wrong, Bones? Don't like being the tough nut?" Booth laughed, drunkenly dodging her angry swipes.

"You make me sound mannish!" Temperance whined, "I'm justa strong, ind'pendant woman!" Booth stopped and caught his partner in his arms. She stared at him curiously when he smiled warmly at her.

"Yeah, you are, Bones. You're as far from mannish as a girl could be," he said.

"Woman," Temperance corrected, "I'ma woman." She punctuated her point by prodding Booth's chest.

"You're obsessed with my chest," Booth teased as he let her go.

"Am not," Temperance denied.

"You keep touching it," Booth said with a grin.

"'Snot why I do it," she said, making Booth chuckle again. Her head pleasantly fuzzy from the alcohol, Temperance returned to prodding Booth's chest. "Good definition tho," she conceded, switching from prodding to squeezing.

"Bones, you're groping me," Booth laughed, watching her hand disappear as if it were on fire. "And cab's here," he added.

"Finally. To the booze!" Temperance announced, her mind filled with thoughts of her stash at home. Booth followed her lazily, relieved to be free of the oppressive sense of déjà vu that had clouded their day. He slipped in beside his partner on the back seat, who giggled as his bulk bumped into her and tipped her over into the window.

He sighed happily as he gently pulled her upright and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"This is the life, eh, Bones?" he said. "Free from weird-ass déjà vu!" Temperance returned his smile and settled herself against him, absently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"No more déjà vu," she agreed. "'S good. Can't be drunk all the time tho, Booth," she pointed out. Booth frowned as the same thing occurred to him.

"Better enjoy it while we can, then," he said, eliciting another nod from his partner. "So really, what's this stuff like?" Booth asked, referring to the drink Brennan had promised resided in her apartment.

"Strong. And syrupy. 'S very nice," Temperance said with a smile. Booth looked pleased.

"I like syrup. Does it go on pancakes?" he asked.

"Dunno. We can make some if you want. I have batter," Temperance added as they pulled up outside her apartment building.

"Cool, let's try it first. Don't wanna ruin any pancakes," Booth said as he helped his partner out of the car after paying the driver. Surprisingly, she didn't comment on his help, though that may have been to do with her wobbling noticeably when she stood up.

"Right," she said, walking into the building and calling the elevator. "usually take the stairs," Temperance said idly, "can't be both'rd now." Booth snickered and slung his arm around her shoulders again, in part to steady himself. Temperance glanced at his arm and debated about saying something before giving up. He smelled far too nice and was warm, anyway.

The elevator announced its arrival with a jaunty bell and the doors opened, allowing the duo to walk unsteadily into the hallway and along to Temperance's apartment.

"Bet I know which one it is," Booth said. Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Of course you know, 't's why we're drunk, Booth," she said. Booth pouted playfully, his arm still slung over her shoulder, but felt pleased with himself. since they had gotten in the elevator, Brennan's hand had lightly settled around his waist and still hadn't moved. For some reason, Booth felt inordinately pleased with this, though his current fuzzy thoughts put paid to the reason why.

"Home sweet home," Temperance said as she unlocked her front door and let the two of them in.

"Nice place, Bones!" Booth said, looking around the tastefully decorated apartment filled with all sorts of artefacts and books. Temperance rolled her eyes as she dropped off her keys, purse and coat and moved to the kitchen. "I mean it!" Booth called, following after. "Wow, nice kitchen too…but…I hate your fridge." Temperance wrinkled her brow in puzzlement.

"Why?" she asked. Booth shrugged, giving the large appliance the evil eye.

"It's evil," he said at last. Temperance laughed as she reached for two shot glasses.

"A fridge can't be evil, Booth, it'sa friiidge," she said, mockingly. Booth merely looked disgruntled, then spotted something on the counter.

"What's this?" he said, picking up the discarded motor magazine. Temperance made a disgusted face and went back to digging out the bottle of booze she was looking for.

"'T's m' old boyfriend's," she muttered. "Asshole," she grunted as explanation at Booth's curious look. He nodded.

"Bad break-up?" he asked, taking the offered glass and sniffing it experimentally. Temperance shrugged.

"Fought all the time. Psychologist," she said, and made another face. "I hate psychology," she complained. Booth laughed and returned to his shot.

"Smells fruity," he said, taking an experimental sip. "Ooh, plummy!" Temperance giggled.

"Plummy 'snot a word, Booth" she said.

"Says the lady saying snot," Booth replied with a lazy grin. Temperance poked her tongue out and downed her shot, causing him to mirror her. "Ooh, warm," he said, and eyed the magazine again, thinking it looked vaguely interesting.

"Don't you dare," Temperance warned, waggling her finger at him dangerously. Booth attempted to look innocent, succeeding in merely looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Wouldn't think 'f it!" he protested. "Hey, you have a TV! I thought you didn't have a TV!"

"I don't, it's Peter's," Temperance said as she gave the television a dirty look.

"Oh. I know how that goes, stuff appearing in your apartment, I mean," Booth said.

"Yeah? You got a grrlfriend?" Temperance asked, rolling the 'r's in a manner she thought teasing. Booth found it sexy instead, and tugged at his shirt collar.

"Yeah, name's…um…" he squinted, suddenly realising he couldn't recall his girlfriend's name. "Oh man," he muttered, feeling embarrassed when Temperance began to laugh. "Oh shut up, Bones," he grumbled. "Oh! Tessa! Her name's Tessa. She's a lawyer," he added. Temperance looked amused as she poured them both another shot.

"At least you remembered," she said. "You like her?" she asked, and Booth detected a faint edge to her voice.

"Not really," he answered without thinking. "Er…" he paused, suddenly realising that he really didn't care either way, where Tessa was concerned. "Hmmm…not a good sign," he muttered to himself.

"Does she know?" Temperance asked. Booth looked at her honestly curious face and detected no hint of maliciousness that he might have expected from some other woman. He smiled. Not his Bones, she was straightforward to a tee.

"No. think I might have to call't off tho," he said. A moment more of contemplation, and he pulled out his phone.

"Booth, not over the phone!" Temperance said, looking appalled. Booth glared, feeling insulted.

"'M not gonna break up with her over the phone, Bones! Jus' gonna call her," he said, and hit the speed dial. Tessa picked up after a few rings.

"Hi Seeley!" she chirped, severely grating on his nerves.

"Hi Tessa," he muttered. "Listen, gonna have ta cancel dinner, somethin' came up." He downed another shot, which Temperance dutifully refilled alongside her own. Booth abruptly realised he was well on his way to being severely hammered as the room tilted alarmingly.

"Seeley, are you drunk?" Tessa asked, sounding shocked.

"Yup," he replied.

"What in God's name made you get drunk in the middle of the afternoon!?" Tessa asked. Booth glared aimlessly at the air, feeling angry that he appeared to have to justify his predicament. Bones wouldn't make me do that, he thought to himself.

"Shit day," he muttered. Temperance suddenly looked surprised and lurched to her feet, banging her shin on the coffee table as she did so.

"Ow!" she exclaimed.

"Who was that?" Tessa asked sharply. Booth winced, realising how this would look.

"'S m' partner," he said, "Bones."

"The anthropologist?" Tessa asked, sounding very upset.

"Um…yeah. She's m' new partner," Booth explained. "Today," he added.

"Just today?" Tessa asked.

"No, no. I mean since today."

"And you're getting drunk with her in the middle of the afternoon," Tessa stated, her voice flat. Booth thought about the possible responses he could give, but felt honesty was the best policy.

"Yup. 'S been a shit day," he explained again.

"Well you have fun with your new _partner_," Tessa spat, "don't expect to see me again. Asshole!" The phone went dead and Booth looked at it dumbly.

"That went well," he said to the empty room, Temperance having staggered off to the bathroom a moment prior. She returned after another minute, looking sheepish.

"Sorry," she said as she plopped down at the other end of the sofa. Booth waved her apology off.

"Nah, 's bound to happen eventually. She got the wrong impression tho," he said as he poured them both another shot. "Let's get shit-faced," he said, "'t's been a shit day."

"No shit," Temperance agreed, knocking back her shot. Booth laughed at her language, then lurched to his feet.

"Need s'me music," he muttered and marched determinedly toward her hi-fi system and cd collection. He perused it thoughtfully, squinting at the many strange names. "Where is it?" he muttered, half aware he was actually looking for something in particular. "Yes! Awesome!" he hooted as he pulled out the Foreigner cd. He waved it in Temperance's direction, and she grinned, realising what he held.

"Yeah! Put it on!" she cheered, rising to her feet unsteadily and skipping over. Booth paused to consider that, amused that the normally reserved scientist actually skipped when drunk. He laughed as he popped the disc in, skipping to one particular track and whooping when the strains of 'Hot Blooded' began to blare around the apartment.

The pair of them began to dance, wiggling and jiving cheerfully as one or the other occasionally poured shots, pausing only to down them before hopping around again, loudly singing the song entirely out of tune and finding it hilarious. The song repeated twice before they collapsed on the sofa, breathless from laughing, singing and jumping around, both tangled up in the other and perfectly happy about it.

"Hey, Booth?" Temperance said, her head resting upon his broad chest.

"Mmm?" he responded.

"This is nice," she said. Booth grinned and squeezed her in response.

"Yeah. Hey, Bones?"

"Mmm?"

"We're smashed," he said with a laugh. She giggled and they untangled themselves, managing to land ungracefully on the floor with identical looks of surprise on their faces that lasted only a moment before they collapsed into gales of laughter. Booth found the bottle and looked at it's nearly full state. "Gotta change that. Hey!" Booth suddenly exclaimed, "Pancakes!"

Temperance looked thrilled.

"Yes! 'Ma hungry!" she said. They struggled upright and darted for the kitchen, both vying to get there first in order to make the pancakes. Neither won, arriving at the same time and grabbing the pancake batter from the cupboard at the same time. "No fair!" Temperance complained. "'S my house!"

"'Partmend," Booth corrected smugly, using his superior strength to gain the upper hand and hold the mix above his head. Temperance jumped twice, doing interesting things to her chest right before Booth's eyes, then fixed him with a mischievous look and grabbed his groin. "Bones!" Booth squawked, dropping the batter. She gave him a smug look and sauntered victoriously over to her stove.


	3. Chapter 3

Déjà Vu Chapter 3

Déjà Vu Chapter 3

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Booth groaned as he woke, feeling his head pounding horrendously. It took him a moment to realise why, and he nearly groaned again when the fuzzy memories of before he slept told him just how drunk he had been.

_Dear God, why must you punish me so?_ He thought to himself. he was about to get up to go to the bathroom, still unsure of exactly where he was, when a soft, feminine sigh accompanied the warm blanket he was wrapped in moving. _That's not a blanket_, he thought, his mind blaring several warnings at him.

Temperance sighed as she felt Booth moving beneath her and lifted her head to look at him blearily. Silently she thanked her constitution for allowing her to escape with minimal headaches, though her stomach was definitely not happy with the situation as it stood, as the violent lurch it gave reminded her.

"Morning, Booth," she mumbled, stretching into a yawn and sleepily tucking her hair over her ears. she registered that her partner was staring at her in something akin to shock and she paused to allow her higher cognitive functions to re-engage. She checked herself, finding herself wearing her usual brown tank top and cargo pants, then glanced around before returning her gaze to her partner. "What?" she asked, her mouth cracking into another yawn.

Booth stared as his partner woke up, seemed completely fine with the situation and then began questioning him. He blinked, still feeling surprised.

"You're not angry?" he asked. Temperance gave him an odd look.

"Why would I be? We just fell asleep when we were drunk, Booth. It's not like we slept together," she said. Booth boggled at the myriad of scandalous images the sentence conjured up in his mind, then realised how his body tended to react first thing in the morning. He froze as it responded with clueless abandon, and prayed to God that Bones wouldn't notice.

She did and, considering she was currently perched on his waist, it really wasn't surprising that she did. Temperance felt her face heat with a blush as she registered her partner's early morning reaction. It wasn't the act itself she was embarrassed about - it was after all, perfectly natural - it was the fact it was Booth, and Booth's…parts which were pressed against her own.

The pair stared at each other, both sporting rosy red blushes, for several seconds, before Temperance's stomach made itself known again, forcing her to bolt for the kitchen to get a glass of water. Alone at last, Booth sat up and cradled his pounding head in his hands.

_Perhaps getting wasted wasn't such a good idea,_ he thought ruefully. It had seemed a good idea at the time, but now he sent another prayer that Cullen didn't get wind of his absence or his reasons for it. Bad déjà vu wasn't likely to cut it with the hard-nosed deputy director of the FBI.

"Booth!" Temperance called from the kitchen, her voice urgent. "Booth, it's ten AM! We're late!" Leaping to his feet, Booth hustled into the kitchen, his face pale.

"We'd better get moving. I'll call the office, you call the lab. I'll drive. We can pick up coffee on the way!"

Temperance nodded, grabbing her keys, purse and jacket before pausing.

"Zach saw what we were wearing yesterday. He'll notice neither of us has changed," she warned, nibbling on her bottom lip in a way that made Booth stare stupidly at her. "Booth?" she prompted, feeling a blush creep up her neck at the intense look on her partner's face.

"Right. We'll deal with that if it crops up," he said, gently steering her to the door with a hand on her lower back. Booth felt the blood pounding in his ears as his hand met warm, bare flesh where her clothing had ridden up, but kept his face calm as the two of them exited the apartment and rode down to the ground floor. So wrapped up in his own thoughts and attempts to suppress his hangover was he, that he completely missed the faint smile that decorated Temperance's lips all the way to the car.

The two of them entered the Jeffersonian at twenty minutes past ten looking tired and rumpled, but in good spirits. Goodman had been surprisingly magnanimous about her lateness, and had merely expressed his desire to see her at her earliest convenience. Which in Goodman terms, meant as soon as she stepped into the building.

"I'll see you in a bit. I have to meet with Goodman and let him know about the arrangement," Temperance said. Booth nodded over his coffee cup and suppressed a yawn.

"No worries. I gotta head into the office anyway and get it cleared with Cullen."

"Try not to get fired," Temperance teased as she walked away. Booth laughed, then thought better of confronting Cullen with a hangover and without backup.

"On second thought, I'm gonna wait in your office," Booth said. Temperance grinned.

"You mean hide," she said.

"I'm not hiding. I'll be going over the case file," Booth said reasonably. Temperance shook her head and made her way to Goodman's office, thoughts of her partner dancing idly in her mind. Whilst she knew that she should be focusing on the case, she knew they would catch the killer and had, in fact, a fair certainty as to who was responsible. He would get his comeuppance.

She knocked on the heavy oaken door to Goodman's office firmly before entering. Dr. Goodman sat behind his ornate mahogany desk, a small pile of paperwork spread before him and stacked in the blue plastic tray marked 'out' to his right.

"Dr. Brennan, thank you for seeing me so soon," Dr. Goodman began, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

"Not at all, Dr. Goodman. What was it you wanted to see me about?" Temperance said. Goodman eyed her levelly for several long moments before easing back into his comfortable chair.

"I was surprised to hear that you had taken the afternoon off yesterday, Dr. Brennan. Especially in light of your last encounter with Agent Booth. I believe that you communicated your dislike for him quite firmly," he said. Temperance kept her face neutral, but inwardly smirked. Her communications mostly had been via pointed arguments that they weren't rent-a-scientists, as she recalled.

Pondering what to say, Temperance ordered her mind as best she was able before speaking.

"My previous interactions with Agent Booth were both detrimental to the working environment and also to our relationship with the FBI. Correct me if I am wrong, but are we not a federally funded institution? I would imagine positive relations with federal agencies would be beneficial to our continued funding." Goodman looked surprised and pleased.

"I am gratified that you realise the need for such co-operation. I confess I was anticipating a rather more…negative reception," he said. Temperance allowed herself a polite smile and shook her head.

"Regardless of my personal feelings on the matter, cultivating relations between ourselves and the FBI can only bring prestige to the institution. I have agreed with Agent Booth that I shall partner with him on cases in order to conduct the forensic investigation, with the assistance of the lab, both in the field and here. Both of us believe that such a relationship will only bring success. We are the best, after all," she added with a slightly smug grin.

Goodman looked amused and approving.

"Excellent, Dr. Brennan. I see no further reason to keep you from doing your job, so unless there is anything else?" he said. Temperance shook her head and rose.

"No, that's fine. if I have any questions I'll give you a call," she said. "Goodbye Dr. Goodman"

"Goodbye, Dr. Brennan."

Booth sat in Brennan's office, idly flipping through the old case file he had worked on in the disappearance of Cleo Eller. He didn't need to read any of the contents, he knew them off by heart now, but the way to proceed was what had him stuck now. Thanks to the eerie déjà vu that both he and Brennan were continually experiencing, which thankfully had not happened today, he had a very good idea of who exactly was responsible.

Glaring down at the picture of Ken Thompson, Booth jumped when Temperance sat next to him and offered him a cup of coffee.

"A bit jumpy, aren't we? I thought you were a trained sniper. Doesn't that come with some impressive observational skills?" she said. Booth accepted the coffee with an annoyed look.

"I'm just trying to work out how to proceed," he explained.

"We get the evidence, solve the case and get the bad guy," Temperance said easily. "Simple." Booth shook his head in frustration.

"It's not simple, Bones. We know who we're after," he held up the picture of Thompson, "but we can't just go for the jugular. We have to jump through all the hoops for anyone who looks at the investigation! A lawyer will look at all our notes and say 'You only went for him. Who else could have been a suspect?' Even if we know they aren't, we still have to talk to other suspects to make it look like we're doing it right."

"So what's wrong? We follow the evidence, right? We just have to be patient and do it properly. There's nothing to fear there, you know we're the best there is." Temperance pointed out. Booth sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah you're right. Sorry."

"Don't be. Both of us are off balance because of this…thing," Temperance said. Booth grinned a little and settled back on the couch.

"Thing, huh? What is this thing?" he asked. Temperance shoved him on the arm and stood up.

"Stop it," she said. "Time to go to work."

The two of them approached the central platform as three people were grouped in discussion. Just as they came close, Angela glanced up and gave them a wide, conspiratorial smile.

"Sweetie! Did you have a nice night?" she asked, glancing between the pair knowingly. Booth resisted the urge to groan, but exchanged a slightly resigned look with his partner, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at the potential line of questioning.

"Not now, Ange," Temperance said. "Work first, questions later. What do we have? I'm assuming, of course, that a full particulate analysis has been done?"

"Yeah," Hodgins said, "I got three larval stages of trichoptera, cara nibidae…"

"Meaning?" Temperance interrupted, her cheek twitching slightly as the familiarly unwanted feeling shivered up her spine. Hodgins glanced at Angela curiously for a moment, who shrugged, before allowing his eyes to dart back to the silent FBI agent who stood just behind his superior.

"She was in the water one winter and two summers," he said after a moment, intrigued by the significant look the duo were now exchanging. _Conspiracy senses tingling!_ He thought to himself. "Hey, you really think I'm listening?" he said. Temperance gave him a confused look before understanding dawned in her eyes.

"Oh, the book? It's not you, though I admit I may have used some characteristics that are relatively unique to your societal standing," she said. Everyone blinked, sure that she would have denied it.

"Oh," Jack said, and then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I found some small bone fragments in the silt," he said, moving over to a nearby monitor and keying in a quick sequence to retrieve the image data he had previously loaded.

Temperance glanced at them for a moment, a silent nod from Booth giving her the go-ahead.

"Magnify, two hundred percent," she ordered. Jack did as instructed and the image enlarged upon the screen. "These are foetal ear bones," Temperance said grimly, "she was pregnant." Everyone remained silent for a moment before Jack spoke up again.

"Also some tiny gold links from a fine chain." The screen split, showing the indicated links after another short burst of typing by Hodgins. "I've not yet analysed what she was holding in her hand, but it looks like cellulose."

"Paper?" Angela offered. He shrugged.

"Hmm…maybe." Zach moved forward nervously.

"Dr. Brennan, I found grit embedded in the skull fragments during my examination that Dr. Hodgins will need to identify. Would you like me to remove the remaining tissue?" he asked. Temperance nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Yes, well done, Zach. I will reconstruct the skull myself once you have finished and pass it to Angela so she can put a face on the victim." Nodding, Zach wheeled the body away toward the area where he would de-flesh the body, stopping only to pass a small container to Hodgins containing what Temperance knew to be diamataceous earth. Temperance turned to Booth, who gave her a small smile. "Did you want me for anything?" she asked.

Booth closed his eyes and massaged the brow of his nose as he caught Angela's muffled giggle.

"Bones, don't say that to a guy, okay?" he said in exasperation, then cut her off before she could ask him why not. "Moving on, I have to speak to Deputy Director Cullen. I don't want him asking why I took off yesterday, so we were working on establishing a professional working relationship." Temperance snorted and rolled her eyes, the image of them capering around her apartment to Foreigner's 'Hot Blooded' appearing in her mind.

"Right," she said. "Let's go then. I have about an hour and a half before Zach is finished de-fleshing the body." The pair then left for her office, allowing her to drop off her lab coat and pick up her purse.

They arrived at the Washington field office in twenty minutes, Booth briefly stopping off to register her as a visitor and acquire a pass to allow her access in the future before they rode the elevator to the fourth floor and the homicide department. There, Booth picked up the rest of the documents they would need to give the director.

"Just remember," Booth said when they were seated in the small waiting area outside the director's office, "don't say anything about the Eller case."

"I _know_, Booth, I'm not mentally deficient," Temperance muttered. They sat in silence then until the director's secretary looked up.

"Deputy Director Cullen will see you now Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," she said. Booth nodded his thanks as they entered the room to sit facing the director in the twin chairs set there for that purpose.

"Agent Booth, you asked for this meeting. I assume it is to do with the body at Arlington?" Cullen asked. His eyes remained firmly set on Dr. Brennan, however.

"Yes sir. Allow me to introduce Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist and author, before we begin." Cullen nodded cordially to Temperance, his expression serious.

"Pleased to meet you Doctor. I was under the impression that you preferred not to have much more contact with Agent Booth," he said, making booth wince slightly. Temperance smiled and shook her head.

"As I told Dr. Goodman at the Jeffersonian, I am aware that holding personal grudges does nothing but cast a pall on the good relations between our two parties, as well as impedes any kind of investigation into the deaths of these unfortunate victims." She glanced at Booth, to find him looking gratefully at her, a small grin on his face. "Also, Agent Booth and I have worked out a deal where I will be accompanying him into the field to assist in any investigations that occur." Booth went white and looked at Cullen nervously.

"I see," the director said. "Before I address that issue, I have heard some good things about your expertise, and would like to ask what input you had on Agent Booth's last case."

"Agent Booth showed me the victim's autopsy x-rays, from which I identified the murder weapon and the approximate weight, height and favoured hand of the suspect. These details, while not given particular credence at the time," Temperance paused to shoot Booth an irritated look, "were proven correct upon the apprehension of the suspect." Cullen's lips twitched in amusement, his eyes glancing over at a squirming Booth.

"I see. Well, I cannot promise that I would have acted differently, but I must say I am impressed. What have you found out about the most recent victim?"

"Victim is female, aged between eighteen and twenty-two and approximately five foot three. She had delicate features and her favourite sport was tennis." Booth stood up and handed over the small file he had gathered on the prospective victim.

"Hmm…you're good," Cullen murmured as he glanced at the file's contents. Booth shook his head.

"No, she's amazing," he said, grinning at his partner, who looked pleased at the praise. Cullen nodded.

"Fine, she's on you. Take a squint out in the field she's your responsibility," he said. "No offence," he added apologetically. Temperance shrugged.

"None taken, I'm used to it from him," she said, indicating Booth.

"Hey, leave me out of it!" Booth muttered as they walked to the door.

Cullen watched the pair go with amusement, not really knowing whether to be happy knowing that they now had an extremely accomplished anthropologist working to solve crimes or to be worried at the likely headaches she would cause. After a moments thought, he pressed the intercom to his secretary.

"Ella, can you make sure to stock up on painkillers? I have a suspicion I'll need them soon," he said.

"Right away, sir," Ella replied. Cullen sat back and glanced through the file Booth had given him again, paying particular attention to the crime scene photos.

"All that from this," he murmured. "Amazing indeed."

"So, you're going back to the lab?" Booth asked as they got into the SUV. Temperance nodded.

"Yes, I need to reconstruct the skull in order to give Cleo her face back. It will take me all night," she added. Booth grunted in acknowledgement, mostly concentrating on threading his way through the lunch time traffic.

"So no lunch then," he said. Temperance glanced at her watch and pursed her lips.

"Maybe something quick," she acquiesced, making Booth smile faintly and indicate to turn off.

"Diner?" he asked.

"Sure," Temperance replied. "Are you going to have pie?"

"I always have pie, Bones, I always have pie." They smiled at each other as Booth pulled up at the Royal Diner. "And coffee," he added as they made their way inside.

"Good coffee," she corrected. He nodded and they slid onto a vacant table next to the main window.

"You handled Cullen pretty well, Bones," Booth said, "and thanks for warning me you were going to tell him about our deal. I was going to do that later." Temperance shrugged as the waitress approached.

"I'll have a Mediterranean salad and a coffee, white, one sugar, please," she said.

"Cheeseburger, no fries, black coffee with two sugars and a slice of that apple pie," Booth added when the waitress turned to him.

"Okay, it'll be right out," the waitress said and retreated. Temperance looked at Booth evenly for several moments before speaking.

"We still haven't decided what to do about this déjà vu," she said. Booth frowned, but nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, we have, at least as far as cases go," he said. "If this happens again on our next case"

"Which it will," Temperance interrupted,

"Which it _might_," Booth corrected, "then we continue as we are now. Just…pointing people in the right direction."

"Booth, evidence has shown that it is highly likely that this will continue to occur. The problem is that we have no idea when it will do so, which makes the anticipation frustrating and stressful." Temperance said. Booth looked amused.

"We'll just have to find a way to de-stress then won't we, Bones?" he said. Temperance rolled her eyes, but perched her chin on her hand to regard him speculatively.

"You're incorrigible, Booth. I wonder if you can take anything seriously." His amused look persisting, Booth briefly thanked the waitress as she returned with their food.

"I'm perfectly capable of being serious, Bones, but you have to wonder, what's the point of being miserable about this? Let's just relax when we can and enjoy ourselves. You know, switch off the work brains and chat about things _not_ related to work?"

"Like what, Booth?" Temperance asked. Booth chewed on his burger thoughtfully for a moment.

"I dunno, Bones, pick something at random," he suggested.

"Why do you like pie?" Temperance asked after several minutes of thought. Booth stifled a chuckle and swallowed more of his burger.

"I was brought up with pie, Bones. My mom used to make it all the time. I love pie. Why, you want some, Bones?" Temperance wrinkled her nose daintily and shook her head.

"No thanks, Booth. I don't really like pie."

"Oh c'mon, Bones. Everybody loves pie! Try it," he cajoled taking a small section on his fork and teasingly waving it before her mouth as she eyed it distrustfully.

"I don't know…I've not finished my salad," she demurred, gesturing at the mostly finished meal. Booth gave her a dry look that silently questioned if she was being serious, forcing her to give in and delicately take the small morsel into her mouth. Booth watched her pink tongue flicker out before she wrapped her lips around his fork and felt his mouth go dry as she slowly withdrew the piece of cutlery from her mouth.

He swallowed thickly, fully aware that the innocent act, at least on her part, was the most sensual thing he had ever seen, and gulped down several mouthfuls of hot coffee to distract himself.

"Gah!" he exclaimed as his brain registered the blistering heat. "Hot!" Temperance looked at him with concern and a small flicker of amusement at his reaction.

"It's coffee Booth, it would be hot. You should try taking it slower in future. Do you know that I saw something with Angela once where the women drank their coffee as if they were having sex?" Booth's eyes bulged as he coughed, barely believing what he had heard.

"What?" he rasped, eyeing her with disbelief.

"It's true. It was some sort of comedy about lawyers, as I recall. Maybe Angela will remember. I tried it afterwards, but I've never had good enough coffee to really get the same reaction." Her speculative eye fell on the half-empty cup of coffee on the table and she raised it to her lips after flashing Booth a wicked smile. His hand flashed into place above her coffee cup just before it reached her lips, making her eyes dance with amusement above his hand as he leant awkwardly across the table.

"Please don't," Booth pleaded, "I really don't need you having sex with your coffee during lunch." He removed his hand after a moment, trying to steer his mind away from how it felt to have her lips kissing the back of his hand. He shivered and dug into his pie, deliberately ignoring the knowing look on his partner's face.

Temperance, on her part, was thoroughly amused at this bashful side of her partner and resolved that a little bit of teasing every now and then couldn't hurt.

"Does this mean I'm not allowed my coffee?" she asked innocently. Booth shot her a black look in response and returned to demolishing his pie. Temperance eyed the remaining part silently, weighed her options, and then made a decision. "Can I have some more?" she asked. Booth frowned, but dutifully put some on a fork and passed it over.

Temperance wondered at the disappointment she felt that he didn't feed it to her, but merely settled for a polite 'thank you' before taking another bite. It was fairly good, she reasoned to herself, for a pie, at least. She rationalised that she could understand why Booth liked pie if he was able to find consistently good quality ones such as the one served in the diner.

The minutes passed by in silence as Temperance toyed with the remainder of her salad, annoyed by Booth's sudden turn for the monosyllabic and frustrated that it was likely her teasing which had made him clam up. she pondered if there was anything she could do to rectify the situation, but admitted to herself that she was pretty poor at handling situations like these.

Opposite, Booth finished his pie and surreptitiously glanced at his partner as she toyed with her food. He felt a pang of guilt at her upset expression and scrubbed a hand through his dark brown hair.

"Hey, Bones," he said. She looked up, her pale blue eyes intense, expression reserved. "You like the pie, huh," he said, gesturing to the empty plate. She shrugged slightly.

"It was a good example of a well baked pie. A nice crumbly case and sweet, moist filling," she said by way of explanation. "It was a good pie," she added, seeing his expression.

"Yes or no, Bones," Booth said wryly. "When someone asks if you liked something, the usual answer is yes, or no."

"Yes, Booth, I liked the pie," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Cool, uh…" Booth trailed off, feeling lost. He needed to fix whatever was wrong, but really didn't know what the problem was. He decided, after Temperance gazed at him silently, that he really didn't want to work, and just wanted to hang out. "You want take-out?" he asked suddenly, then realised exactly what her response would be.

"We've just eaten, Booth," Temperance pointed out.

"I know that, Bones. I just meant…later," Booth said, making a vague gesture with his hand. She continued to stare at him silently and he scrubbed his face to avoid her stare. "Tonight, Bones. I'll bring take-out tonight, okay?" he said eventually. She gave a slow nod, and then opened her mouth.

"Mee Krob?" she said, seemingly testing the words as she spoke them. Booth grinned.

"Mee Krob it is, Bones. C'mon let's get back, we've got a killer to catch," he said. She returned his grin and stood up just as he paid for their food. At her exasperated look, he shrugged nonchalantly and gestured for her to make her way to the exit. A guilty portion of himself admitted he did it to watch her tight bottom as she walked.

Unnoticed, Temperance glanced into the glass of the door and realised just where her partner was looking. She suppressed a smile and added a little extra sway in her hips as she walked to the car.


	4. Chapter 4

Déjà Vu Chapter 4

Déjà Vu Chapter 4

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! Makes me want to write more. Who wants more? ;)

The fire was everywhere, the heat searing and blistering her skin. Her kitchen was annihilated, shards of her destroyed fridge scattered everywhere, the heavy stainless steel door nothing more than twisted wreckage. As she staggered through the smoke, her vision blurry from the tears it caused, she desperately sought him, her voice hoarse from her frantic screams.

Then her foot caught, and she stumbled, her hand landing on a scorching hot piece of metal. She cried out in pain and cradled her hand to her chest, then remembered the oddly soft obstruction that caused her to stumble. It was a body. His body.

Sobbing, she crawled over and took stock of his injuries through the haze that now covered the room. She realised then everything was oddly silent, though there may have been a distant roar somewhere. She hugged him, cradling his prone body to her chest as his life blood pumped out all around him from the deadly shrapnel wounds. She was red too, though not from his blood. Everything was beginning to become blurry…

She felt his hand reach up and tenderly touch her face, his brown eyes sad. His lips were moving, but she could not read what they said. With her head tilted downwards, she saw the piece of metal embedded in her own chest, her blood running in a slow, weeping river down her chest. Ah. That was why she was dizzy. She was dying.

A flaming object crashed down nearby, but she ignored it, her eyes staring into those of the man on the floor. She would rather be nowhere else at the moment. She didn't feel panicked anymore, and felt a gentle smile tug at her lips as she curled around his dying body, resting her forehead against his. His eyes were the last thing she remembered seeing.

"Booth!" Temperance shouted as she started awake. Before her sat the reassembled skull, tissue markers placed over its surface, and a very startled looking Zach, who held a cup of coffee.

"G-good morning Dr. Brennan," Zach said, offering her the coffee nervously. Still disoriented from the nightmare, Temperance stared at him in incomprehension for several seconds. "Coffee?" he added, once more pushing the cup in her direction. Mechanically she reached out at took it, her mind absorbed in trying to process the conflicting feelings of terror and peace that still lingered.

She swallowed, suddenly reminded of her parched mouth, and raised the coffee to take a sip.

"Thank you, Zach," she muttered. He perked up at her thanks and gave a friendly nod.

"Not a problem, Dr. Brennan. Did you want me to get that over to Angela's lab?" Temperance nodded, suddenly distracted by the buzzing in her pocket. Her phone. She plucked it out, not even needing to look at the caller ID. She knew who it was.

"Booth?" she said. His breathing was harsh and heavy on the other end.

"I had a dream," he said, his voice low and gravely. An unexpected shiver crawled up her spine at the sound of his voice, both pleasant and electric at the same time.

"Me too," she said, her voice suddenly a breathless whisper.

"Bones?" he said. She felt a lump in her throat and took a sudden savage pull on her coffee, ignoring the burning of her tongue and throat.

"Yeah?" she said.

"I really, really hate your fridge." The absurdity of the statement made her erupt with a bark of laughter, soon drowned by uncontrollable giggles that left her gasping for air as she clung to the table, her legs too wobbly to hold her. When she had gotten herself under control – or at least a semblance of it, she smiled.

"I think I do, too. Think I should replace it?" she asked. The smile on his face was almost audible.

"Definitely. Want to go shopping for it after the case?" Booth asked.

"Sure. Did you call as soon as you woke?" Temperance asked, meandering about the platform absently as she played with an errant strand of her hair.

"Not quite. Splashed some water on my face after I checked I didn't have holes in my chest," he joked. "Well…not any new ones, anyway."

"I wondered. You sound sleepy," Temperance said. She began to make her way to the office, oblivious to the stares of her co-workers who stood less than ten feet away.

"Yeah, well," Booth said, "You know what it's like. You at the lab?" he asked.

"Yeah," Temperance said as she sank into her chair with a soft sigh.

"Cool. I'll grab breakfast and bring it over."

"You know what I want?" Temperance asked, making him chuckle.

"Of course. I _always_ know what you want." The roughness in his voice gave her another pleasant shiver as she indulged in a momentary fantasy.

"Okay," she mumbled, feeling breathless. "See you in a bit. And bring coffee."

"Coffee, or good coffee?" Booth teased.

"If you bring good coffee, I'll show you how good it is," she returned, smothering a grin at the momentary shocked silence from the other end.

"Right," Booth said, his voice tight. "See you soon." The line went dead and Temperance allowed herself to giggle. She jumped in surprise when a voice spoke up from the door.

"Oh. My. God." Angela said, her face lit up with a megawatt smile. "Who are you and what have you done with Temperance Brennan?" Temperance groaned, knowing full well where this was going.

"What is it, Ange?" she said. Angela settled into the chair before her desk purposefully.

"Since I know that Agent Hot Stuff is on his way as we speak, we can get straight to the juicy details. What's going on, Bren?" Temperance shook her head, fixing her friend with an annoyed look.

"Nothing's going on, Ange," she insisted.

"Right. And I'm the queen of France," Angela deadpanned. Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Really! Nothing is going on." Temperance made sure to emphasise each word separately to get her point across.

"Uh-huh. So you didn't take a day off to get blitzed with Agent Double-Oh Naughty?" Angela asked. Temperance dithered, fully aware she was awful at lying. "Ah-hah!" Angela crowed, "that proves it! c'mon Sweetie, dish the goss!" Temperance blinked.

"Dish the what?" she asked.

"The gossip, girl. Dish the gossip. Right now, before he gets here." Temperance dropped her face into her hands and groaned. Her mind absently wondered if Angela was somehow related to a rotweiler, as both refused to let go once they had their teeth into something. Not that there was anything for her teeth to get into, her mind pointed out smoothly.

"Ange! Please! There is nothing going on!" she cried in frustration. Angela looked disapproving and wagged a finger at her as she stood up.

"Fine, be that way. I'll get to the bottom of this, mark my words! It's better to tell me now, less painful that way!" She leaned closer over the desk. "Think of it like ripping off a band-aid."

"Ange, please," Temperance pleaded. Angela held up her hands in surrender.

"Alrighty, if you insist. You're the queen of denial."

"Thank you," Temperance sighed, absently waving to her friend as she left the office.

Angela stalked over to Hodgins and Zach with a determined stride.

"Something's going on, here," she said. "Bren's awful at lying. There's something she's not telling me."

"She did seem awfully friendly with Agent Booth despite their previous mutual dislike of each other," Zach reasoned. "There was an above average amount of physical contact at the scene, and Dr. Brennan has not changed her clothes in two days."

"Ew," Angela said, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe I should go back and make her take a shower."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Zach said, pointing to the rapidly disappearing form of Booth, who strode toward Brennan's office quickly.

"And he brings her _breakfast?_" Angela hissed. "Oh she's so gonna pay," she muttered. Hodgins looked delighted by the turn of events.

"Ah, I love a good conspiracy," he mused, stroking his beard.

Inside her office, Booth looked at Brennan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"You didn't even go home to shower? Jeez, Bones, that's gnarly." He offered her a small paper back and coffee before easing himself into the couch. Temperance grunted, perching herself on the front of the desk as she rooted through the bag for her breakfast. Booth chuckled. "Nice, Bones. Way to go all cave-girl."

She glanced up at him mid-bite, a curious expression on her face around the bagel, and he laughed, having to place his coffee on the small coffee table to avoid spilling it. Temperance scowled and swallowed her mouthful before speaking.

"It's not funny, Booth. I was up all night piecing together Cleo's skull. I got done around three this morning. What did you do last night?" she accused, taking another bite from the bagel. Booth looked indignant.

"For your information, I went over the case files again." Temperance rolled her eyes.

"Wow, really helpful," she mocked. "It's not as if we already know what to do. Oh wait, we do."

"Sarcasm isn't helping, Bones," Booth said.

"Hmph. I'm going home for a shower. I'll be back afterward."

"I'll drive you home," Booth offered. Temperance shook her head as she polished off her bagel and coffee.

"That's not necessary Booth," she said after a moment. "I have my car here."

"Shut up and let me drive you home," he muttered, steering her out the office with his hand.

"I'm not some submissive house-wife you can order around, Booth!" Temperance growled, swatting him on the shoulder as she shrugged her coat on.

"Tell me about it," he muttered under his breath. Temperance caught it and punched him solidly on the shoulder. "Ow! Jesus, Bones!"

"Serves you right," she sniped. The pair made their way to the front door, stopping briefly at Angela's office. "Angela, I'm going home for a shower. Did you get cl- the skull?" Temperance said, correcting herself at the last second. Booth glared meaningfully, to which she gave an apologetic shrug. Angela, perceptive as ever, caught the slip and the resulting exchange.

"Yeah, I got it. I should have it for you by this afternoon, Sweetie," she said.

"Thanks, Ange. See you later," Temperance said.

"Bye Sweetie, Agent Booth."

"Angela," Booth said with a nod. The pair left, Angela's dark eyes following them speculatively.

"She's onto us," Booth said as they reached his SUV. Temperance sighed as she leaned back in her seat.

"Yeah. She thinks we're involved," she muttered. Booth laughed softly as he started the engine, his dark eyes dancing merrily.

"Only as much as partners are involved," he said. Temperance managed a rather lame smile and nodded.

"I'm exhausted," she muttered. "Shower and bed for me." Booth nodded and continued to drive in silence, occasionally glancing at his partner as she dropped into a fitful sleep. A smile quirked on his lips as she murmured indistinctly.

"Sleep well, Bones," he whispered. When they arrived at her apartment, he eased himself quietly out the door and around before carefully picking her up and out of the car. She stirred slightly when he closed the car door, but only snuggled into the crook of his neck with a soft sigh. Booth grinned to himself as he entered the apartment building and rode the elevator to her floor, enjoying the feel of her soft skin and warm breath against his sensitive skin.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise and he nearly dropped her when she started to nuzzle him affectionately, her chest vibrating with a nearly inaudible sound of approval. "Jesus, Bones," he whispered as he fumbled with her apartment keys, "are you trying to kill me?" Finally getting the door open, he kicked the door closed and trotted quickly over to her couch, setting her down and untangling her fingers from where they had decided to thread themselves in his hair.

"Wakey-wakey, sleepy-head," he carolled with a smile. She peered blearily at him through her lashes, the clear blue of her eyes making him pause for a moment. A languid smile crossed her lips and she reached up to caress his face.

"Mmm…Booth," she murmured. Booth felt his face flush and he cleared his throat. The sound seemed to snap Temperance out of her half-awake state and she snatched her hand back as if burned. "Booth, what-?"

"You fell asleep in the car," Booth interrupted quickly. "I brought you up here." Temperance looked around, recognising her apartment, and sat up.

"Oh," she murmured, "thanks, Booth."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, grinning disarmingly. Temperance managed a weak smile as she stood and moved down the hallway.

"I'm going to have a shower," she said, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden yawn. Booth nodded behind her back, then realised she wouldn't see the motion.

"Yeah, okay. I've got some case files to go over in the car, anyway." Temperance paused and glanced back at him curiously.

"You want to stay?" she asked. He gave her an amused look.

"I drove you here, Bones. Your car's at the lab, remember? When Angela's completed the facial reconstruction we'll have to go in." Temperance nodded and returned to padding down the hall.

"Makes sense," her voice drifted back, accompanied by the clink of a beaded curtain.

"I'll be right back, have to get the stuff from the car, okay?" Booth called. He heard an indistinct sound of acknowledgement from down the hall and grinned. Turning, he was about to walk out when his eyes fell on the large stainless steel fridge. He shivered, vividly recalling the dream. "I hate that fridge," he muttered, scowling at it venomously.

Annoyed now, he stomped out to the stairs and took them all the way to the ground floor and went to the car, still tramping around as if he was mad at the world. When he reached the black SUV, he paused, wondering just what exactly he was mad about. Shrugging, he grabbed the files out of the small lockbox he also kept a spare gun in and went back inside, this time taking the elevator back up to his partner's floor.

When he finally sat back down on Temperance's couch, he felt disgruntled at the very real memory of the terrifying exploding fridge. He snorted, amused at the private moniker he had attached to the appliance, then sobered as he remembered the dream. Watching as his partner crawled over to his body, tears falling down her face to mingle with the large bloodstain that marred her white blouse.

He swallowed thickly as he recalled how she had calmed upon reaching him, curling up against his side, oblivious to his apologies and pleas for her to run.

"_I love you, Booth," _she had whispered as he felt the last of his strength leave him, sending him drifting into tranquil darkness. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he realised that his dream-self had not said the same thing, and wondered why not. He felt weak, cowardly, and clenched his fists as a wave of self-loathing suffused his body.

The sound of the shower switching off distracted him enough that he was able to relax, and abruptly he felt the urge to talk to her. Standing, he walked down the corridor until he stood outside the bathroom.

"Hey, Bones?" he called. He felt her surprise on the other side of the door and grinned.

"Um…yeah?" she replied.

"We never talked about the dream," he said. The tension in her voice was audible when she replied.

"So? It's just a dream, Booth, it doesn't mean anything." Booth shook his head and settled himself down against the wall, the bathroom door beside him.

"So what was your dream about, Bones?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter, Booth!" she said, sounding angry. Faint sounds of rubbing reached his ears, and goosebumps prickled on his flesh as he realised she was naked. Swallowing, he bulled forward, needing to talk about it.

"It does, Bones. Or have you forgotten our déjà vu?" he said. He waited a beat before continuing. "I dreamt your apartment was on fire, Bones. That I was dying. That you were injured and bleeding to death. That I died," he added, struggling to raise his voice so she could hear. Abruptly the bathroom door yanked open, and she stood, clad only in a towel that she held to her chest, her hair wet and dripping with tears glittering in her clear blue eyes.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "You're not dead, Booth. You're here!" Caught between the desire to stare at her nearly naked body and continue talking, he did both, leaping to his feet with a startled oath.

"Holy shit, Bones! Put some damn clothes on!" He waited a moment, not hearing her move. "You had the same dream, Temperance," he said softly. He heard her sharp intake of breath at his use of her first name, but carried on. "That's not normal. We both had the same, damn dream. Your apartment was in flames. We were both dying. I died. Did you?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. He felt her lean her head against his back, subconsciously seeking comfort. Booth turned and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight as a wave of grief washed over him.

"I'm sorry," he said. He felt her shake her head against his neck.

"Don't," she muttered, "it's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything," she repeated.

"Then why are you crying, Bones?" he asked gently. Her body shuddered and her fingers fisted in his shirt as he began to rub soothing circles with his hand on her bare skin.

"It's just a dream," she muttered, her voice thick with tears. He nodded.

"I know, Bones. I know. It's okay, now. We're safe." He continued to murmur soothing words, only half listening to the things coming out of his own mouth as he drew comfort from her very presence, the very fact she was alive and well. He registered she had spoken something from the feel of her mouth moving against his chest. "I'm sorry, Bones. What'd you say?" he said.

"You left," she repeated, shaking slightly. Booth felt a wash of shame flood him again and squeezed her close.

"I know. I'm sorry." Against his chest, Temperance heard and felt his words and smiled. Then she realised that she was crying on her partner's chest and pulled back, embarrassed. She moved back, the towel, gripped firmly in Booth's large hands, did not. They blinked at each other, before his eyes widened and dropped down.

"Booth!" she slapped him as hard as she could and darted back into the bathroom. He stood there, dazed, holding his face.

"Ouch," he muttered, refusing to think of the tantalising image of his naked partner that marched brazenly through his imagination.

"Booth! Towel!" Temperance barked from around the door. Suddenly embarrassed, he closed his eyes and shoved the towel in the direction of the door.

"Sorry!" he called. He felt the towel snatched out of his hand and heard the bathroom door open again. Silence. "Bones?" he asked and risked a glance around his hand. Temperance's fist coming the other way met his eyes. _Ohshit_, he thought, then saw stars.

Remember! Feedback: it's the coin of the realm!


	5. Chapter 5

Déjà Vu Chapter 5

Déjà Vu Chapter 5

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Seeley Booth was a lot of things. Being prepared for his partner to clock him one in the face was not one of them. He awoke to something freezing cold being placed on his face. After the obligatory obscenity due to both surprise and the throbbing pain in his face, he settled down to eyeing his contrite looking partner warily. Currently the image of her naked was the farthest thing from his mind.

_At least she's dressed_, he thought, taking in her t-shirt and sweatpants at a glance.

"I'm sorry," Temperance said. Booth blinked.

_That was not the reaction I expected_, he thought. Out loud he said, "It's okay. I shouldn't have ogled you." Her mouth twitched. "What? What'd you expect me to say?" he asked.

"I don't know," Temperance said, looking torn between amusement and embarrassment. "That's not the point. I might have overreacted," she admitted. Booth stared, and then dropped the bag of ice from his face.

"Might have?" he quoted. "I said I was sorry! You should know that when confronted with a beautiful naked woman a man automatically looks! Even if he doesn't want to!" Temperance looked even more embarrassed at his outburst before she got angry.

"You were staring!" she insisted. His retort slipped out before he thought about it.

"So? No, wait…" he back-pedalled, looking nervous. "That didn't come out right." Temperance snorted and forced his hand back up to his face, pressing the ice pack onto the rapidly darkening bruise.

"That's going to bruise," she said. Booth heard the apology in her voice and sighed.

"It's fine," he muttered and lay back in an attempt to relax. "You really do hit like a man, Bones. Jesus!" he whined.

"Stop being a baby, Booth," Temperance said. "I'm going to have a nap. Angela should be done in about three hours." Wordlessly Booth waived her off and listened to her bare feet pad down the hall before he stood up and found a mirror. Gingerly he prodded the tender area and winced at the thought of just how bad it would look in a few hours. After a few minutes reflection, coupled with a rather lurid grin, he decided that it had been worth it. Temperance Brennan naked was not something he would ever forget.

"Down boy," he chuckled and returned to the files he had left on Temperance's coffee table to catch up on much needed paperwork. "Ah the bane of a federal agent," he mused to himself, absently holding the ice against his face as he began to work.

The sound of a key in the lock three hours later made him pull out his gun and stealthily creep toward the front door. He watched as an athletically built man cautiously entered the apartment and turned to close the door. Booth sprang.

"FBI, freeze," he ordered, the telltale sound of a firearm being cocked echoing through the room. The man froze, a horrified look on his face. "Who are you?" Booth demanded.

"His name is Peter, and he's my ex-boyfriend," Temperance's voice interrupted. "Why are you here, Peter?" she asked. The man in question briefly glanced back at the barrel of Booth's gun fearfully, and Booth felt a surge of satisfaction. "Booth, drop the gun," Temperance said.

"Sure, anything you say, partner," he said with a cocky smirk. Peter eyed the FBI agent warily before speaking up.

"Uh, w-while you were away, I um…I …" he trailed off at the disgusted look on the anthropologists face. "What?" he asked. Temperance glowered harder, her lip curling up into a snarl.

"I know why you're here. You came back for a booty-call!" she said.

"What?" Booth said as he began glaring himself. Peter backed up nervously.

"Hey, c'mon. This is obviously just a negative reaction to-" Temperance interrupted his psychobabble by punching him in the face just as Booth stepped behind him to open the door. Peter stumbled back out into the hallway cradling his face and making agonised sounds.

"I think you broke his nose, Bones," Booth said.

"Good," she replied, slamming the door before Peter could muster up what remained of his tattered dignity. "I'll send a courier with your TV!" she shouted through the door. "Asshole!" Booth chuckled at her anger, backtracking quickly when he saw the angry gleam in her eyes.

"Easy, Bones, easy. You've already clocked me today, remember?" She gave him a fierce grin and he savoured the odd feeling that lurched in his gut at the sight. Their gazes locked, her bright blue eyes boring into his own for what felt like an eternity before she looked away. Booth sagged slightly, feeling as if she had just peered into his soul then jumped when her phone trilled from its hiding place in her purse.

Temperance reached the small bag in two strides, snatching the phone out and flipping it open in a single motion.

"Yes?" she snapped, only belatedly remembering her manners.

"Okay, what did I interrupt?" Angela's voice asked. Temperance closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"Run in with an old boyfriend," she answered shortly.

"Ooh, juicy!" Angela responded. Temperance sighed and massaged her temples.

"Ange," she prompted.

"Sorry, Sweetie. I've finished, you want to come back?"

"Alright, I'm on my way," Temperance said, "be there in thirty minutes." She hung up before her friend could respond and strode back to her bedroom.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Booth called from the living room. In the middle of removing her t-shirt, Temperance paused.

"Really?" she said

"Uh, yeah, Bones. She's supposed to be your friend? You didn't even say goodbye!" he responded. Temperance grimaced and extricated herself from the rest of her sleepwear.

"Damn," she muttered, rooting through her walk-in closet for the appropriate clothing. "You think I should apologise?" she called. Booth's voice sounded like it came from just outside her room.

"I think so. Think of it as personal growth," he said. Temperance pictured the cheeky grin on his face and felt her lips perk into a smile.

"Growth, huh?" she said, plucking a tasteful white blouse and pants combo from the racks and slipping them on. She wiggled slightly to get into the jeans, but the way they hugged her curves in the mirror made up for the extra effort it took to pull them on. Nodding in satisfaction, she grabbed a necklace from the stand Angela had made her for her birthday and slipped on a pair of earrings before walking into the hallway.

"I was wondering…" Booth trailed off as Temperance stepped out, her sculpted legs and perfectly proportioned bottom hugged by a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been painted on. _Holy cow._

"Wondering what, Booth?" Temperance asked. His mouth worked for a moment before he spoke.

"Wondering how long it would take you to get dressed," he said. Temperance shrugged.

"Well I'm dressed now, so we can go." Booth nodded

"Right, let's go, Bones."

"Don't call me Bones," Temperance insisted. Booth smiled, placing his hand at the small of her back and gently propelling her toward the front door.

"You can say that 'till the cows come home, Bones," he said, "I'm still gonna do it." Temperance rolled her eyes and snagged her purse, keys and coat from the stand as she walked past.

"What a pain," she muttered.

"You love it," Booth teased. Temperance couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face.

_I really do_, she thought, revelling in the sense of total companionship that she felt. The pair continued down to the SUV, exchanging little grins every now and then at their private joke, and she wondered why she had never felt such a sense of fulfilment with anyone else.

She supposed it was both the experience they were sharing and the sense that both completely understood the other, dispensing with the need to present their best face toward the other as normal people would.

_He knows my flaws,_ Temperance thought. _He knows __**me**__._ It made her feel warm inside.

"Hey, Booth," she said. He glanced at her, a roguish smile decorating his lips.

"Yeah, Bones?" he replied.

"How well do you know me?" she asked, leaning her head against the headrest of her seat. Booth darted a considering look at her for a moment, still concentrating on driving. She watched him wet his lips.

"I'll answer with this question: how well do you know me?" he said. Temperance huffed in vexation.

"That's not an answer!" she insisted. He chuckled.

"Just answer, Bones," he said. Grumbling softly, Temperance crossed her arms.

"Pretty well. Now answer my question!" she said. Booth shook his head, a mock disappointed expression on his face.

"Only pretty well, Bones?" he said. She growled.

"Booth!" she exclaimed. He gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Okay, well. I think I know you well."

"How well?" he returned immediately. Temperance frowned, confused as to why he was asking.

"I'm confused," she said honestly, prompting another smile from Booth.

"With all that's happened in the last, what, day? How well do you think you know me?" he asked. Temperance paused, her logical mind turning the statement over on itself several times.

"I believe I know you very well," she said at length, "but without testing that knowledge, I cannot say for certain." Booth nodded.

"Right. Same here. I believe I know you very well, but I can't really say. We've not exactly had much time to get to know one another." Temperance tried looking for a deeper meaning behind his words.

"So you're suggesting we get to know one another more?" she said.

"Pretty much. Plus I'm getting really tired of the déjà vu thing. We've got to find something to do that doesn't set it off all the time. I get it every time I walk into the Jeffersonian, the diner, Wong Fu's, your apartment, _my_ apartment. It's ridiculous!" Temperance nodded in agreement, recalling the hundreds of uncomfortable sensations she had been feeling recently.

"Okay, so what do we do?" she asked.

"I dunno," he admitted, "try different things, I guess."

"What about trying things we would not normally do?" Temperance suggested.

"Like what?" Booth asked.

"I don't really like going to bars," she said. Booth chuckled.

"You're suggesting we get wasted again," he said.

"No I'm not," Temperance insisted, "I don't do well in social situations, it puts me out of my element."

"Of the lab," Booth said.

"No, of a peaceful, structured environment conductive to work and study," she corrected. He grinned.

"Right, like a lab," he said, drawing out the syllable mockingly. Temperance sighed.

"Yes, like a lab," she muttered, feeling petulant.

"Aww, don't sulk, Bones! I have to win some sometimes," Booth said. "Anyway, it sounds like it might work. We'll just have to behave sensibly," he said. With that agreed, they finished the journey in satisfied silence, both mulling over exactly how well they really knew the other.

Angela watched Temperance and Booth arrive, both discussing something animatedly. Despite the obvious disagreement between them, Booth's hand was solidly entrenched in its place at the base of Brennan's spine, the duo's bodies walking close together.

_There is no way that this is normal_, she decided to herself. Something was up, something big. Then she saw Booth's black eye and the occasional guilty looks that crossed Temperance's face when she thought he wasn't looking. Angela stifled a laugh, wondering just what happened to make Brennan react with violence. Had the sexy FBI agent gotten a little too frisky? She would find out. Soon.

"Sweeties!" she called, waving her hand and directing them to her office. "How are you? Ooh, that looks nasty, Agent Booth. Run into a difficult suspect?" she asked. The pair exchanged an awkward glance.

"Er, what have you got for us, Angela?" Temperance said. Angela gave her friend a pointedly suspicious look at the blatant dodge, then gestured to the small dais in the middle of the room

"Does Agent Booth know how this works?" she said. Temperance glanced at Booth, who gave a minute nod. Had she not been looking for it, Angela would have completely missed it. she filed it away for later reference.

"Uh, yeah. Bones gave me some info," Booth said. Angela gave a mental wince at the awful lie and wondered how Booth knew about the system. He hadn't been shown it before and the others would have mentioned had they told him about it. Temperance's look had been questioning, not reminding. Angela supposed that he could have learned about it through the FBI, since it was a fully registered system, but she highly doubted it. You had to know what you were looking for to get that information.

"Right. I designed the system, and it'll allow us to get nearly 100 accurate approximations of victim's faces. Much better than photofit," she muttered disparagingly to herself. Booth smothered a grin at the artistic superiority the normally bubbly woman was oozing.

"Great, I'm sure it'll be a great help, Angela," he said. She nodded.

"Well, Bren applied tissue markers to the skull she repaired," she said.

"Her skull was badly damaged but racial indicators, cheekbone dimensions, nasal arch, and occipital measurements suggest African-American," Temperance said. Booth rubbed his head tiredly. He was beginning to get used to the feeling now.

"And we have our victim," Angela said as the machine lit up to display a slowly rotating bust.

"Substitute using mixed race values, Ange," Temperance instructed. The buzz at the back of her skull made her swallow a grimace when her friend spoke up.

"Lenny Kravitz or Vanessa Williams?" she asked.

"Uh…" Temperance stalled, looking slightly nauseous.

"You okay, Sweetie?" Angela asked. Temperance waved her concern away.

"Bad food," she explained. "Can you try?" she asked, gesturing to the display. "We should give it a name," she added to Booth.

"How about the Angelator?" he suggested, an amused smile decorating his face.

"Hey, I like that," Angela said as she typed. "There, how's that?" The face displayed morphed slightly, displaying a young half-black woman.

"Reduce tissue depth over the cheekbones to the jaw-line, please," Temperance said. The picture changed again.

"Cleo Louise Eller," Booth said grimly.

"The girl who had the affair with the senator," Zach said.

"Jesus! When did you get here?" Booth exclaimed. Zach looked unnerved and slightly annoyed at the reaction.

"I've been here the whole time," he said flatly. Booth glanced at Temperance who nodded.

"Great. Warn a guy next time, okay?" he said.

"Sure," Zach muttered. Beside him, Hodgins looked fit to bust a gut laughing. "It's not funny," Zach whispered loudly with a frown.

"Yeah, it is," Hodgins said.

"Why is it funny? Agent Booth simply did not see me, and therefore was surprised I was in attendance."

"Dude, you define the term 'wallflower.'"

"There are many types of wallflower. Which one in particular?" Zach asked. Hodgins swallowed his laugh at the various annoyed looks being sent in their direction.

"Never mind, Zach," he muttered. Booth cleared his throat, glad the interruption was over.

_Time to get the squints revved_, he thought.

"Her name is Cleo Louise Eller, the only daughter to Ted and Sharon Eller. Last seen approximately nine p.m., April 6th, 2003 leaving the cardio-deluxe gym on Kay Street. She didn't even make it to her car. I was secondary in that investigation. I know her family, her parents. They're good people. She didn't deserve to die."

"No one does," Temperance pointed out.

"Some people do," Booth argued. "Scumbags like the guy who pulped her face to hide her identity." Temperance lowered her eyes, silently agreeing. "Now I have to find out who killed her without getting kicked off the case for accusing a state senator of murder."

"We'll help," Temperance assured with a smile.

"Thanks, Bones." Angela, Jack and Zach exchanged glances.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Angela demanded as she stood up and crossed her arms.

"Nothing, Ange," Temperance insisted.

"Actually there appears to be some form of bonding occurring between yourself and Agent Booth," Zach interjected. Temperance sighed and rubbed at her face tiredly.

"Yeah, you guys were screaming at each other last year and now you're best buds? C'mon, we're not stupid," Hodgins stated. Booth shared a frustrated look with Temperance and sighed.

"Give us a minute," he said after gesturing to talk outside. They nodded and Temperance followed him into the hallway. "Bones, they're not going to leave this alone," Booth warned softly. She rubbed her arms uncomfortably and nodded.

"I know. I just don't like the idea of telling them when we have no idea what's going on. They're my colleagues, people I respect," Temperance said.

"We have to tell them, Bones," Booth murmured. She sighed.

"Let's just get our story straight first. At least then it won't be so confusing."

"Bones, it is confusing. It's déjà vu. All day," he pointed out. Temperance groaned. "Let's try telling the truth, okay? C'mon, we know it won't be too bad, right? What's the worst that could happen?"

"We could be sectioned and committed to mental institutions," she said. He hesitated.

"Okay that'd be pretty bad," he admitted, "but that's a long shot, Bones. You know it." she nodded dubiously.

"I guess," she muttered reluctantly. They began walking back to Angela's office. "It's just not logical," she complained, her tone bitter.

"Tell me about it. At least we have each other, right, Bones?" Booth consoled. Temperance gave him a small smile in response.

"So, got your cover stories straight?" Hodgins asked archly. Booth frowned.

"Shut up, Hodgins. All of you come with us," he commanded. Temperance glanced at him curiously and he indicated the rest area on the suspended platform. Her expression cleared and she nodded in agreement. Dutifully and with only a few complaints, the group moved to the comfortable seating, finally ending up facing Booth and Brennan, who remained standing.

"Where do we start?" Temperance muttered, suddenly feeling awkward.

"The beginning helps," Angela joked, though she looked nervous. Temperance essayed a nervous smile.

"Right," she said. "Uh, it started when I got to the airport," she began.

"When I picked up the phone at the office," Booth supplied at her glance. "I'd had a headache all morning. Partly from dealing with…loyal people," he said after a pause and a glance in Zach's direction. "But also just a random headache. I needed Bones' assistance on this case, so I called in a hold for questioning."

"Just after that, I was brought in by Homeland Security," Temperance took over, nodding in Angela's direction. "Ever since my arrival I'd felt like something was building, though I had no idea what. When the agent arrived, it started."

"What started?" Angela butted in.

"Déja vu," Temperance and Booth said at the same time.

"When she was taken in, they gave me the heads up," Booth continued. "They told me she looked like death warmed over."

"I felt it," Temperance groused. "I've never felt so nauseous. The feeling of déjà vu was so strong the room was practically spinning."

"My headache was practically trying to fry my brain," Booth said, "so I hot-footed it to the airport and barged into the interview room."

"Then it stopped," Temperance said, looking at Booth.

"What stopped?" Jack piped up.

"My headache and her déjà vu," Booth explained. "As soon as we saw each other it went away."

"Then it got weird," Temperance muttered, looking faintly amused. Zach, Hodgins and Angela exchanged dubious glances. 'Then?' Angela mouthed incredulously.

"Really weird," Booth agreed. "It's like we'd known each other for years. Had spent every day with each other."

"We knew that the last time we had seen each other we were practically at each others throats, but we were just…" Temperance sought vainly for the word.

"Comfortable," Booth supplied.

"Right, comfortable with each other. We even agreed it was completely implausible," Temperance said. Booth bobbed his head in agreement.

"Totally crazy," he said.

"And then we went to the crime scene," Temperance said.

"And it got weirder," Booth said.

"You've got to be kidding me," Angela muttered.

"How do you think we feel?" Temperance said, her expression exasperated.

"So yeah, we got to the crime scene. And guess what," Booth said.

"Déja vu," Temperance supplied. He snapped his fingers.

"Right," he said, "good ole déjà vu. Again." Zach's eyes widened in realisation.

"That's how you knew about her tennis injury," he said. Temperance looked pleased at his deduction. Hodgins and Angela turned to their colleague.

"What's this?" Hodgins asked.

"When Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth arrived at the scene I noticed an unusual amount of physical contact between them considering their previous history. As they last were seen arguing heatedly, their new attitudes toward each other was curious, so I observed as best I could from the shore. Then, after they dredged the body from the water, Dr. Brennan only gave the body a cursory glance before making a series of observations. At the time, I believed that it was her expertise allowing her to identify everything so quickly, but-"

"Who Zach, slow down, buddy," Hodgins interjected. Booth gave him a grateful look.

"We already knew who she was when we found her," Booth said.

"We seem to have some limited form of prescience that manifests when certain objects or places are before us," Temperance added. "When we found Cleo Eller's body, we just seemed to know. I remembered identifying the various features on Cleo's skeleton and simply spoke what I already knew." She looked at Zach. "I assume you verified my observations at the lab?" Zach nodded.

"Everything you said was spot on, Dr. Brennan. I apologise, I shouldn't have doubted you. Your current dementia is troubling however." Temperance swallowed and essayed a sickly looking smile. Her glance at Booth practically screamed I told you so.

"It's not dementia, Zach," Angela muttered sourly. "Not unless it's catching. How far does it go?" she asked the pair. They exchanged a glance.

"My apartment, her apartment, here, work, Wong Fu's, a diner I like to go to sometimes, the park where I play with my son," Booth trailed off. "Pretty much everywhere. The only time we've been free of it has been when we got smashed the night before last."

"Hah! I knew it!" Angela crowed in delight. Temperance rolled her eyes.

"So not the time, Ange," she said. The artist grinned, embarrassed, and quietened down.

"Right, sorry. You said it's like you've known each other for years, have you tested it?" Angela asked. The pair nodded.

"Yeah, I listed off a bunch of things only she should know. We were pretty shaken up after that," Booth said. Angela sat back, looking stunned.

"I bet," she muttered.

"So you're saying you have limited prescience, seem to know each other like you've known each other for years and get déjà vu pointing you in the right direction?" Hodgins asked.

"Pretty much sums it up, yeah," Booth said with a nod. Jack laughed.

"Cool."

"That means you know who killed Cleo Eller, or have a strong suspicion," Zach said. Everyone paused, waiting on their response. Temperance exchanged a glance with Booth and shook her head minutely.

"We can't tell you," she said. "It might make you miss something you would otherwise find if you are making assumptions. Currently we've decided to follow the evidence. If it takes us to who we suspect-" she trailed off.

"Then we have our proof," Booth added.

"That doesn't prove anything," Zach said. "You could change your minds and claim you already knew," he pointed out. Temperance nodded.

"He's right," she said. "We need some way to tell them without doing so."

"What about a sealed envelope?" Angela suggested, "one we open only after the case is solved?" Hodgins grinned.

"I have one better. A sealed envelope in a time-locked Perspex case constantly monitored by a live video feed. That way it'll be sealed, unlockable until we solve the case!"

"One problem, genius," Booth said, "we don't know how long the case is going to take. Putting a time delay on it could make you rush, which could lead to mistakes, which could lead to the killer getting away with it." everyone nodded.

"What about Dr. Goodman?" Zach suggested. "We could tell him we're conducting an experiment and have him create the code to the box. That way none of us would be able to get it until after the case is solved and it would give a modicum of credence to your claims." Everyone exchanged glances.

"That's not bad. Way to go, Addy," Booth said. Zach gave a tight, pleased grin in response. "So, who builds the box?" Booth asked. Zach and Hodgins leapt up and dashed off without a word. "Okay, answers that question," he muttered to himself. That left Angela, who stared at the pair piercingly. "Oh dear," Booth said.

"Yeah," Temperance echoed. The artist stood.

"Spill," she commanded. They glanced at each other, clearly confused.

"What?" Booth tried.

"Oh, please. You're practically humping each other with your eyes," Angela said bluntly.

"Angela!" Temperance exclaimed, looking shocked. Booth frantically tried to control his blush as images of a naked Temperance Brennan danced across his mind's eye once more.

"Uh-huh. Well lover-boy over there certainly seems to have something on his mind," Angela said.

_Crap_, Booth thought as Temperance stared at him in surprise. Wordlessly, he pointed to his bruise. She flushed an attractive shade of pink in response.

"Just drop it, Ange. It was just an embarrassing incident, nothing more. We didn't have sex or anything so sordid."

"Having sex with me would be sordid?" Booth asked before he could stop himself. He groaned at Angela's expression and flinched at the look of unbridled fury on his partner's face. "It just slipped out," he explained. Temperance stalked toward him and began poking him furiously in the chest.

"Keep your alpha male ego to yourself! You're not helping!" she growled. He gave her a rakish smile to try and calm her down, but it only served to make her glare harder.

"Okay! Okay!" he yelped when she raised her finger to poke him again. "Just stop poking me!" Temperance whirled on Angela.

"And you! Drop it! It's not like I've got enough stress with this ridiculous déjà vu going on!" Angela had the common sense to spot an explosive Brennan a mile away and gave her friend a gentle smile.

"Okay, Sweetie. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," she said. Booth stared at her, gob-smacked that she suddenly backed down, until she shot him a cheeky wink.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered. Temperance had breezed past him by this point, and was well on her way back to her office.

"Aww, poor Booth," Angela drawled. "You know her so well, yet fail to learn a thing," she teased, gently patting him on the cheek in a patronising manner. He sighed and dropped his head.

"I have a headache," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

Déjà Vu Chapter 6

Déjà Vu Chapter 6

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for your reviews! They keep me writing ;) If you want more, let me know! Remember: Feedback, it's the Coin of the Realm!

Booth caught up to Temperance just after she entered her office.

"Listen, Bones," he began only to have her interrupt.

"Don't Booth," she said, her voice clipped and annoyed. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he said. Temperance lifted her gaze from her desk and fixed him with a direct look.

"We have to be professional here, Booth," she insisted. Booth felt breathing become difficult and swallowed thickly.

"What?" he asked. Temperance sighed and stood straighter.

"We have to act professional whilst at work," she clarified. Booth felt something inside un-knot.

"Oh," he said. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her hips.

"Oh? Is that all you can say?" she snapped. Booth shook himself and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Sorry, still a little dazed from the attack of the fifty foot woman," he joked. She gave him an odd look.

"I don't know what that means," she said. He laughed.

"Never mind, Bones. I get what you're saying. No sex talk in the lab," he said. He paused and rewound his sentence at the sight of her smile and arched eyebrow. "I mean no sex talk! No sex talk!" he exclaimed. She gave a throaty chuckle, her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

"I can see where your mind is stuck," she said. Booth covered his face, feeling mortified.

"It's not what you think, Bones," he said, his words somewhat muffled by his hands. He heard her laugh again and move closer.

"Let's go talk to Cullen," she said. He risked a glance and felt a grin tug at his lips at the warm, happy expression on her face.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

"Don't call me ma'am," she insisted. He grinned.

"Yes, Bones," he said. She shook her head and exchanged her lab coat for her jacket, absently swatting him on the arm as she passed. He followed, admiring the way her jeans clung to her body silently.

_This partner stuff is great,_ he admitted to himself with a grin. Her voice floated back to him, teasing and amused.

"Stop ogling me, Booth. It's not professional."

"Yes, Bones," he quipped. They laughed and he gently pressed his hand to her lower back as they exited toward the car.

Cullen frowned at the pair before him thoughtfully. He had thought there would be a continual power struggle between them, especially considering how opinionated and self-assured Dr. Brennan was in her own life, but somehow they had settled almost immediately into an easy partnership.

"You're sure it's Cleo Eller?" he asked. They nodded in eerie unison.

"The profile is dead on," Brennan began.

"And the timeline fits. She played tennis in college," Booth finished. The pair exchanged a glance before turning back to Cullen, who rubbed his head tiredly.

"Talk to me about the senator," he said. Brennan shivered as Booth spoke up.

"The victim worked for senator Bethlehem," he said, passing Cullen a picture of the senator. "They were reported to be involved, but we haven't been able to confirm." Cullen grunted softly.

"Bethlehem is a hound, everyone knows that." Booth smoothed his hand over the nape of his neck, feeling the goose-bumps that had arisen there.

"Ken Thompson, Cleo's boyfriend. He's Bethlehem's aide and keeps his calendar, books his appointments. That sort of thing."

"So he would have known about an affair," Cullen reasoned. They nodded in unison again and he frowned. "No affair, no motive," he stated. "What about the nutcase?" he asked.

"Oliver Lauriea," Booth said, handing over another photo.

"You like him for this?" Cullen asked. Booth looked torn.

"He is a stalker," he said, "but I've talked to him before. He doesn't seem the type. Far too nervous. But it could be him," he said. Beside him, Temperance looked faintly nauseous.

"What's your first move?" Cullen asked. Booth closed his eyes and pushed down the surge of dizziness.

"I'd like to inform the Ellers that we've found their daughter," he said. "I've come to know the family well. They deserve to know a.s.a.p."

"I'll have the cause of death by this afternoon," Temperance added. Cullen sighed, realising what the two were pushing for.

"Fine, just get this wrapped up as soon as you can. This is a nightmare as it is," he muttered. The two nodded and left without further words, leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts. Gratefully he reached into his desk and took out a small bottle of pills, taking two and swallowing them with a gulp.

"Thanks Hodgins," Temperance said as she hung up, pocketing her cell in her jacket. "So far so good," she said. "They've built the box and just need us to drop by to place the notes. Hodgins also identified rolled steel from a sledgehammer and diametacious earth from the particulates embedded in Cleo's skull." Booth gave a nasty, vindictive smile.

"Excellent," he drawled, imitating Mr Burns from the Simpsons. Temperance looked at him blankly, obviously realising he had made a pop culture reference but clueless as usual. "Never mind, Bones," he sighed. "God it'll feel good to get this guy," he muttered.

"Doesn't it always feel good, Booth?" Temperance asked. He nodded, but tapped the file meaningfully.

"Yeah but usually it takes a while to pin down the doer. Since we know who it is, we can work toward catching the little bastard out when he tries to squirm. Then I get, we get," he corrected, "to see his face when he realises he's done for. That's why it's better," he said. Temperance smiled, her own a little vindictive now.

"I see what you mean," she murmured. "Let's get back to the Jeffersonian and get those notes in the box. Though I do wonder what they said to get Dr. Goodman to agree to be the key holder." She mused.

"C'mon, please?" Angela pleaded. Goodman eyed her with barely concealed irritation.

"Miss Montenegro, I am a busy man. Do you honestly expect me to take time from my work just to help you with this little experiment?" he asked. She fluttered her lashes and gave him a large, sweet smile.

"Yes?" she tried hopefully. His expression stayed disapproving. "Oh, come on Dr. Goodman. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top?" A glint of amusement wormed its way into his eyes.

"My children do that when they want toys," he said. "I hardly expect it from one such as you." He paused. "Actually I retract that statement. This is exactly what I would expect of you." Angela grinned and continued to stare, opting to play the annoyance card. Goodman sighed. "Alright, Miss Montenegro, alright. Where is this box?" he asked.

"Downstairs," she said, bouncing up from the seat she occupied. "I'll take you," she added.

"Your generosity is astounding," Goodman deadpanned as he rose.

They met up with Brennan and Booth as they walked into the main atrium of the Jeffersonian. Temperance nodded at her superior.

"Dr. Goodman," she said in greeting. Goodman quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," he said, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The box," Booth said, ignoring the frigid glare sent his way by his partner.

"You are involved in this as well? I am surprised, Dr. Brennan. I would not think that such an outlandish experiment would interest you," Goodman said. Temperance looked tense, but nodded mutely, opting instead to lead the way to the lab. They arrived in little time to find a grinning Hodgins inspecting a large clear Perspex box coupled to an electronic locking mechanism with a small keypad and digital display.

"Hey!" he said when he noticed their arrival. "What do you think?" he asked. Booth walked around it and then glanced up.

"Where's the camera?" he asked. Goodman raised an eyebrow.

"Camera?" he asked. Zach stepped forward nervously.

"We decided that in order to assure ourselves that no one would attempt to interfere with the experiment we would hook up a live video feed to the security desk. We've asked the guards to make sure no on has any kind of interaction in order to maintain isolation," he explained. Goodman made a thoughtful noise.

"What exactly is the nature of this experiment? Miss Montenegro was deliberately evasive when questioned on the matter." Everyone froze, unsure of exactly how to explain what they were trying to prove. "Ah, I see it is one of those things I am not supposed to ask about," Goodman murmured.

"Awkward," Jack sang softly in a falsetto voice. Zach stared at him oddly.

"I fail to see what is so awkward about the situation," he stated loudly. Everyone cringed. "As Dr. Goodman is a scientist, he is well aware of experimenting to prove a hypothesis, therefore there should be no difficulty explaining to him the aim of this procedure," he continued. Goodman pounced.

"Then I would appreciate you explaining to me, Mr. Addy," he ordered. Zach nodded, oblivious to the frantic shushing motions Angela and Temperance were sending him behind Goodman's back.

"Of course. We are attempting to disprove dr. Brennan and Agent Booth current theory that they are experiencing prescient déjà vu," Zach explained. "They claim that they have experienced intuitive precognition when confronted with specific stimuli and already know the murderer of Cleo Eller. I deduce they also likely feel that they know the exact place and instrument of her death, although this hypothesis is somewhat contaminated as they have received Dr Hodgins' results regarding the particulates embedded in her skull."

The room fell silent, everyone watching Dr. Goodman's reaction with baited breath. Beyond blinking once in mild surprise, he seemed unruffled.

"I see," he murmured. Temperance stared, somewhat aghast that her own fears had been so easily deflated.

"That's it?" she asked sharply. "We tell you something that should have us committed and you say, 'I see?'" Goodman looked amused.

"Need I remind you, Dr. Brennan, that while I am a scientist, I am also a deeply religious man. Such claims as prescience and déjà vu are hardly news to me. In fact, I am now decidedly interested in the result of this experiment and, as long as it does not interfere with the running of the lab; I am willing to allow it to continue. In fact," he added, eyeing the box with interest, "I believe it might be a good idea to continue the experiment indefinitely. With each new case that Agent Booth brings to us, perhaps we should place he and Dr. Brennan's hypothesis within the box?"

The staring continued and his affable expression darkened.

"Well? Shall we continue?" he asked. Everyone jumped.

"If Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth could write down everything they can?" Zach asked, pushing two pieces of paper at them. "Separately please," he said. Booth shot him an annoyed look, but took the offered pen and moved to the opposite side of the room from his partner. Temperance did the same, sending Goodman a small, grateful smile as she passed. He returned a very small smirk.

A few moments of scribbling later, the duo presented Zach with two envelopes emblazoned with their names in crisp typeface that he slid into the two separate compartments in the box. He nodded to Hodgins, who signalled for Goodman to approach.

"Just hit the hash key and input the code you want into the keypad. When you're done, press hash again," he instructed. The black man nodded in acknowledgement and waited for everyone to retreat a safe distance before inputting his code of choice. The terminal emitted a sharp beep and the indicator light changed to red.

"Done," he announced. Everyone exchanged glances before Temperance spoke up.

"Let's screw this guy," she said. Booth laughed.

"It's 'let's nail this guy,' Bones," he explained. She blinked.

"Okay," she said. "To the Ellers?" she asked. He nodded, placing his hand at her lower back and steering them toward the door.

"We'll be back," he said before they left. Goodman watched them going with a raised brow and then turned to Angela.

"I believe the term is 'spill it,'" he said. She started to laugh.

Temperance tilted her head back into the headrest of Booth's SUV, feeling drained. Beside her, Booth looked similarly exhausted, having been subjected to the same never-ending feelings she had ever since they arrived at the Ellers' house.

"God I hate this," he muttered. He felt her hand rest gently on his forearm and opened his eyes. She looked drawn and pale, obviously suffering far more than he. He chuckled when he realised the possible similarities. Her expression turned questioning, and he grinned at her. "It's like we're pregnant without the benefits," he said. Her expression looked like a cross between amusement and horror.

"If that's the case," she said, "I'm never ever going to allow myself to fall pregnant."

"Aw, don't say that, Bones. Besides, I'd guarantee you'd be one of those women who suffered no side effects and carried on regardless. You know, one of those women every other pregnant woman hates." She looked smug at the idea, then frowned.

"Still no," she said. Booth chuckled, and then sighed.

"I just want this over. All this, just to get to where we know we're going," he said. She nodded.

"I want to let everyone else handle it and crawl into bed," she said, then blushed at her unintentional innuendo. Thankfully Booth was too tired to notice.

"Back to the lab?" he asked. She nodded.

"Thanks," she said. He shrugged.

"No worries, Bones. But we're celebrating when this is over, believe me."

"We're going to get bombed?" she said.

"It's blitzed," he corrected. "Actually bombed works too," he said, making her smile. "But yeah. We are. We _so _are."

"I think we need it," she agreed.

"I think we deserve it," he said. She nodded.

"To the Jeffersonian, Tonto," she said. He stared at her in shock. "What? I get them sometimes."

"You called me Tonto!" he exclaimed. "He's a sidekick!" Temperance looked smug. "Oh, no way, Bones. I am not the sidekick!" he insisted. She laughed.

"Okay, Hi-ho, Silver, away!" she carolled. The pair collapsed laughing.

"Does that mean you want to ride me, Bones?" Booth asked. Her mouth clicked shut and she stared at him with wide eyes. "Er…never mind," he muttered, returning his concentration to the rode. The rest of the trip was spent in somewhat nervous silence.

Temperance stared down at Cleo's skeleton impatiently. She wanted to move on, but Zach was still examining the bones carefully, his hand pinning down a small envelope she had handed to him before they began the detailed examination.

"A trial run," she explained, gesturing to the remains. He nodded and began his inspection.

_That was an hour ago,_ Temperance groused to herself. Realising her assistant's need to be methodical didn't help stifle her impatience, and so she stood, silently stewing whilst awaiting his findings. Finally he stood, casting her a brief glance before opening the envelope and reading the contents. His second glance was a great deal more respectful.

"It would appear that your information is correct, Dr. Brennan. I apologise for verifying your conclusions," he said. She smiled briefly.

"It's okay, Zach. Were I in your position I would do the same thing. I don't really believe what's going on myself, and you are much more logical than I am." He looked relieved just as Jack arrived.

"Looks like another win for you, Dr. B," he said, holding up a small sheaf of papers. "She was pregnant," he confirmed. "Pupil casings show she was on Lorazepam, chlorodiazepam epoxide, and mechlazine hydrochloride. She wasn't far along. Want me to try for paternity?" he asked. Temperance nodded. He frowned at the remains pensively. "This Senator, ah, he's smart. He gets an intern pregnant then murders her when it threatens his career and he has the connections to get away with it!" Temperance gave a faint smile and shook her head.

"I hate it when you make paranoia plausible. It's like sliding off a cliff," she said. Hodgins grinned. "Can you narrow down the source or application of that diametaceous earth?" Temperance asked. He paused and shook his head reluctantly.

"Not really, it has widespread use across several industries. The source I narrowed it down to sells to hundreds of different companies. I'd never be able to pin-point what it was actually used for. I'm sorry Dr. B," he said. "Is it important?" he asked.

"It could be," she hedged. "Just carry on as normal, okay? We'll nail this guy, I'm sure of it." he nodded and watched as she walked away.

Temperance idly watched as the sky darkened to twilight. Soft footfalls alerted her to someone's approach and she turned to see Booth approach, his tie and top button undone and with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

"Evening, Bones," he greeted, a gentle smile on his face. She lolled her head more in his direction, an answering smile of her own curling her lips.

"Hey," she said.

"Tired?" he asked as he sat down. She shifted slightly to lean against him and nodded.

"Yeah." He chuckled softly, the vibrations soothing her a little.

"Monosyllabic today, aren't we?" he joked. She stirred and opened her eyes.

"Big words," she murmured softly, sighing when he slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, that's your fault," he said. She nodded and remained silent. "Want to go spook the creepy stalker guy tomorrow?" he asked. She nodded.

"He's trouble," she murmured.

"I know. He's not done anything yet, though. Can't count chickens before they hatch, Bones." She sighed softly, then pulled herself away.

"Let's do something," she suggested. Booth raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"We can't get wasted yet, Bones. Case's not over."

"I know that. I don't know, I just want to relax," she said. He smiled.

"You don't remember?" he asked. She frowned in confusion and he pouted.

"Mee Krob, Bones?" he reminded. Her face lit up.

"Thai food!" she sang, enjoying his accompanying duet. Newly energised, she hopped to her feet and began dragging him toward the parking lot. "Let's go!"

"Wait up, Bones!" Booth called, moving his legs faster to catch up.


	7. Chapter 7

Déjà Vu Chapter 7

Déjà Vu Chapter 7

Author's note: Thank you everyone for your reviews! It helps keep me going  So…who wants more? C'mon, let me hear you say it!!

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

The next morning found the duo staring at Oliver through a gap in his door.

"Mr. Lauriea, we have a warrant to search your apartment," Booth said. The door slammed shut, the sound of running footsteps following swiftly. Booth rolled his eyes at Temperance and sighed. "I hate it when they do that," he groused. Temperance tried smothering her amused look, but only succeeded in looking wry.

Booth forewent subtlety and kicked in the door, chasing after Oliver as he fled toward the back of his apartment. As he caught up to the scrawny man, he cheerfully manhandled him into submission.

"Where are you going, Oliver?" he asked, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Oliver grimaced, but stopped struggling. Booth released him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I know what this is about. It's about Cleo isn't it?" Oliver said. Booth raised his eyebrows at Temperance.

"Wow, smart isn't he?" he said. Temperance frowned, herself instinctually disliking the nervous looking man.

"Booth," she admonished. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but nodded and handed over the warrant.

"You're looking for the bronze star like the one Cleo wore?" Oliver said. Booth eyed him with distaste.

"Yes. Exactly like that." He began moving around the apartment, looking through bookcases and drawers with ease of practice. "Cleo took out a restraining order against you, Oliver. You were stalking her."

"Sometimes stalkers retain keepsakes," Temperance added deliberately. Oliver frowned.

"I never stalked Cleo," he insisted. Temperance looked unimpressed.

"Then why did she get a restraining order?" she said.

"Okay, Okay. No. First of all, No. Ken Thompson, her supposed boyfriend, got the restraining order with his boss the Senator, but Ken is only concerned with his job and his tropical fish. They colluded to ruin my reputation with this specious stalker label when in actuality I was Cleo's close friend." Temperance shared a look with Booth.

"Fish?" he asked sharply, "Did you say fish? As in, special types?" Oliver glanced between the pair in confusion.

"Uh…yes?" he replied. Temperance and Booth shared identical, shark-like grins.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lauriea," Booth said, rapidly escorting his partner from the apartment. Outside, he flipped out his phone and dialled Cullen. Two rings later, he reached Cullen's secretary. "Ella, hi, it's Agent Booth. Can you put me through to Deputy Director Cullen?" he asked. Temperance watched as he smiled. "Thanks." There was a pause, in which he winked at her, a roguish smile firmly on his face that slipped off when a male voice came onto the line. "Sir, yes, it's Booth. I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but we've come across a vital piece of information that we need to follow up on as quickly as possible." He paused, listening to his superior as Temperance opened her door on the SUV and climbed inside.

"Yes, sir, we need a warrant to search Ken Thompson's property for Diametacious earth. It's used in a variety of things, but we've found he has a love of tropical fish. Yes, sir, I know it's not a lot to go on, but would you rather we serve the senator with the warrant? Yes, sir. I'll swing by and pick it up immediately. Goodbye, sir." Booth hung up and leant on his partner's door. "We got him, Bones," he said. She grinned in appreciation.

"Let's get moving then, Agent Booth," she said tartly. He laughed and closed her door, jogging quickly to reach the driver's side.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan," he replied, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the kerb.

Booth restrained himself from doing a victory dance when the warrant team found Thompson was absent from his home, meaning he could once more flex his muscles and kick the door down. At his side, Temperance rolled her eyes with a tolerant smile, easily recognising Booth's desire to display his prowess.

"Alpha male," she muttered as he jogged toward the front door. She snorted a choked off laugh when instead of replying, he stuck his tongue out as he passed. One solid shove later, the expensive wooden door lay open, allowing the agents access. Booth stood with Brennan and directed agents toward the many tanks that stood housing the fish.

"Take up the floor. And take samples of the tanks! We need to see if we can match the previous samples," Booth instructed. The agents nodded and went to work. "Nice and easy," he muttered. Temperance eyed him dubiously.

"We still need the murder weapon," she pointed out. Booth grimaced.

"It is on the warrant, but I'll have to serve it against the senator to get it. Cullen'll blow his stack." She raised a delicate eyebrow, her blue eyes twinkling.

"Since when has that stopped you?" she asked. He grinned and slung an arm around her shoulder.

"So true, Bones, so true. C'mon, let's file the other warrant and get everything out the way."

Booth grinned evilly at Thompson as he watched him get led away by another agent, feeling satisfied that another asshole was going to be behind bars soon enough. He felt Temperance draw to a halt just behind him and flashed her a wink over his shoulder.

"Up for a celebration, Bones?" he asked. Her eyes were bright and happy as she nodded.

"Of course," she said. "You don't think your dancing from last time scared me off, did you?" Booth eyeballed her petulantly.

"Hey, you're the one who tried pole dancing without a pole," he pointed out reasonably. She shrugged.

"That was due to the copious amounts of alcohol that we imbibed, Booth. Your dancing, however, I believe was completely you and you alone."

"I was drunk!" he insisted. She snorted.

"Yeah, like I believe that you're that great a dancer? If it was that bad when you were drunk, then it's likely a disaster area in the making when you're not," she said.

"Is that a challenge, Bones?" Booth said. Her eyes twinkled.

"Take it how you want. It's not my fault if your ego can't take being a poor dancer."

"I'm a great dancer!" he insisted again. Her smile was tolerant as she patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

"Of course you are, Booth," she said. Booth glared.

"You're being patronising," he said.

"I am? I'm sorry," she said, her tone making it perfectly clear she was humouring him.

"Right that's it. We're going dancing. I'll prove I can dance!" he said. She paused, her chin lifting slightly in challenge.

"Alright," she conceded, "We need to get changed first, though." She indicated her clothes and Booth's suit in a single sweep of her hand. Booth nodded.

"Right. We'll stop at mine first," he said. Temperance frowned.

"Why? My place is closer," she said. He chuckled as he gently guided her to the car and held open her door.

"Yeah, but I'd only take ten minutes to have a shower and get ready. You'll be an hour." She sucked in a shocked gasp of air.

"That is one of the most sexist, pig-headed things I've heard you say yet! I am perfectly capable of getting ready in a short space of time! Not all women take hours fussing over their hair and make-up you know!" she snapped. Booth suppressed a grin and drove to his apartment, only half listening to her follow-up. "It's only because society puts so much pressure on women to conform to sexist ideals of 'beauty' that many women even wear make-up at all! It's a completely unnecessary ritual of female adulthood that is as antiquated as half a dozen other cultural stigmas we have to adhere to-"

Booth cut her off before she launched into an impassioned speech on feminist ideology.

"Are you saying you don't like dressing up to look sexy, Bones?" he asked. She paused and sputtered.

"That's not what I said! I only said-"

"That it's only because society, yadda, yadda, yadda," Booth interrupted again. "You didn't answer my question," he pointed out smugly. She huffed and crossed her arms defensively.

"I do like looking nice," she said, "I just resent the fact that women feel they have to cover themselves in make-up in order to be beautiful and empowered. Women should be able to feel confident without making themselves the object of sexual desire." Booth gave her a lop-sided grin.

"You manage pretty well, Bones," he said. Her face told of her internal war between appreciation at his implied compliment and annoyance that he had completely ignored her point. Eventually she settled on a smile.

"Thanks, Booth. It's a shame men don't have to go through the same thing," she reasoned.

"Whoa, hold up," Booth said. "You're saying that men don't have any pressures at all?" Temperance shrugged.

"Not really, no. Beyond the usual cultural points of 'bringing home the beef' and being superior in bed, men have very little to worry about," she said.

"Okay, first of all it's 'bringing home the bacon,' Bones. And second of all, there are all kinds of pressures guys suffer, okay?" Booth said. He saw Temperance raise an eyebrow again from her seat and bristled, though he knew she was really aware of what he was talking about. He just knew she wanted to bicker.

"Guys have to be all 'manly and tough,' yeah? If you're not, you're not a man, plain and simple. And it's more competitive in a guy's world than it is between women," he added.

"And do you have to wax your arms, legs and groin in order to maintain your masculinity?" Temperance asked.

"What? No!" he said, looking horrified at the idea.

"Well there you go then. Not only that, women are forced to conform to societal ideas of beauty, such as dress size, weight, breast size," she hefted her breasts for emphasis, distracting Booth for a moment.

"Jesus, Bones! Don't do that!" he exclaimed.

"Do what? Touch my breasts?" she asked, repeating the motion.

"Yes! Yes! No touching the breasts!" he demanded. She smirked, obviously amused. "Bones," he warned. She rolled her eyes and sat back to stare out her window, obviously letting the matter go.

"You seem to have an obsession with my breasts, Booth," Temperance teased, dashing his hopes. "Remember? Nipples, teats, breasts?" Booth briefly closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

"Bones, _please _let it go," he pleaded. Her eyes gleamed evilly and he sighed.

"Is this because you saw me naked?" she asked. His sigh turned into a groan of frustration.

"Bones! Can we not talk about this? For once?" Images of her nubile body began playing through his mind and he almost whimpered. _I can't catch a break,_ he thought to himself.

"Alright, fine. This isn't over," Temperance warned, feeling immensely satisfied with herself. Booth gave her the gimlet eye and continued to drive in silence.

"Evil woman," he muttered softly. Temperance pretended not to hear him, but allowed a victorious smirk to settle on her lips.

When they arrived at his apartment, Booth seriously began questioning his intelligence. Twice in a row he had fallen for obvious bait, but he just couldn't let it go. Despite rather humiliating defeats, real or impending in the case of the dancing, he couldn't deny that bickering with Bones was far too enjoyable for the fact it was actually supposed to be a disagreement.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Temperance asked as they walked through the front door. He shrugged.

"Just pondering life," he answered semi-truthfully. She nodded and moved further into the apartment, nosing around like a curious child. "Make yourself at home, Bones," he said. She glanced at him, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"I doubt you'd want that, Booth. Occasionally when I want to relax I walk around naked." Booth choked on the glass of water he had drawn for himself and glared at her incredulously.

"Stop doing that!" he demanded. She turned away from his record collection with an innocent look, belied by the furious twitching of her lips.

"Stop doing what?" she asked, tilting her head endearingly. Booth pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You know what," he muttered. She failed to hide her grin this time and he grimaced, deciding discretion was the better part of valour. "Oh forget it, I'm going for a shower." Her husky giggles trailed after him down the hall, and he shivered, rubbing at the goose-pimples that prickled up and down his arms. "She'll be the death of me," he muttered. The cold chill that crawled down his spine made him swallow and dash cold water on his face from his bathroom sink faucet. "Note to self: do not say that again," he growled.

He busied himself then with getting ready for his shower. He stripped off his suit and underwear, grabbing his favourite deep maroon towel as he entered the bathroom and closed the door with a push. Unnoticed, the door failed to close, silently drifting partially open behind him as he climbed into the tub and into the rushing spray.

Down the hall, Temperance finished poking around and eyed the comfortable looking leather couch appreciatively. After mulling it over, she reluctantly concluded that Seeley Booth had good taste in furnishings and decided not to tease him about the occasional item of sports memorabilia scattered around. Besides, it had to have been difficult to get signed bats or balls anyway, and mocking him about them would only make him tell her how he acquired said items, something she had no desire to find out about.

Her ears picked up the sound of the shower from down the hall and a devious idea sprung fully formed from her subconscious into the light of day. Silently she crept down the hall and into Booth's bedroom, inwardly appreciating the subtly masculine overtones of the décor, before turning her head toward his en-suite bathroom. She froze.

There, perfectly framed for her appreciative eyes, were Seeley Booth's naked buttocks. Temperance found herself regretting her vegetarian stance immediately and wondered exactly what it would be like to sink her teeth into the perfectly sculpted posterior of her partner. Her gaze dragged itself away and up his back, marvelling at the way the water cascaded across his body. The word 'ripped' sprung to mind, and she wondered if her intentional voyeurism could get any better.

Then he turned around, and all semblance of thought fled. She dimly realised he was rinsing the suds from his hair, and would soon be able to see that she was staring at him, but really couldn't bring herself to care. Revenge was definitely not served cold in this instance, she reflected as she sub-consciously fanned herself. He was nearly done. She would soon be found out.

_Should I leave?_ She wondered. The thought was dismissed as fast as it cropped up. _Not a chance. I want to see his face!_ She moved closer, nudging the door open wider with her toe as she leaned against the frame, once more allowing herself to appreciate just how aesthetically pleasing her partner was.

Then he opened his eyes.

"HOLY -!" his rather unmanly shriek of surprise was cut off as his feet slipped from beneath him and he fell over the side of the tub, tearing the shower curtain that had semi-encircled it from its railing as he fell. She couldn't help feeling amused, despite her worry that he was okay, and burst out laughing even as she waddled around to see if he had been injured.

"Are you okay?" she asked when she had brought her laughter under control. He groaned, and then sat up with the speed of a striking snake.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE!?" he roared, his face and upper torso turning an interesting blotchy pink. She blinked.

"I would have thought it was obvious. I was looking at you while you had a shower," she replied. "I must say, you are an excellent specimen," she complimented, "above average size. I'm sure you would make a woman quite happy," she added with an impish smile. He stared at her, completely flabbergasted.

"I cannot believe that you actually watched me shower," he murmured faintly.

"Fair's fair," she said. "You saw me naked," she reasoned.

"For one second!" Booth exclaimed, leaping to his feet, the curtain clutched protectively over his groin.

"You didn't need any more," Temperance said. "Research states that it takes less than a fraction of a second for a man to recognise and memorise the female form. If you closed your eyes right now you would be able to picture my body perfectly." Booth reddened further and shifted suspiciously. Temperance grinned, scenting blood. "Oh? Have you thought about my body, Agent Booth?" she teased.

_I'll be thinking about yours_, she added to herself.

"Bones," he said, sounding resigned, "please let me get dressed. Or at least hand me my towel?" she handed the fluffy towel over with a smirk and watched him glare in return. "Are you going to turn around?" he asked.

"No," she said honestly. "I've seen it before, remember?" He sighed and began wrapping the towel around his body, brushing past her and into his bedroom, his shoulders tense and annoyed. Temperance followed, lightly brushing her hand across his wet shoulders and letting her hand settle on his bicep. He turned to face her, his face tense.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling childish and silly. "It was meant as a joke," she explained. He shrugged, the muscles of his torso rippling tantalisingly.

"It's okay," he muttered. "Just don't do it again." Moving to the door of his bedroom, Temperance allowed an increasingly familiar wicked smile to cross her face.

"No promises," she said and disappeared. Booth sighed and settled his wet head against the front of his closet.

"Dear God, why must you torment me so? Is it karma? Really? Can you not get me kidnapped by drug smugglers and tortured for information with baseball bats or something?" He sighed, pulled the closet open and began to rummage for something to wear. Just for that stunt, he was going to make her head spit. "Evil woman," he muttered. He was unaware that it came out sounding fonder than he wished.

Temperance held her head in her hands as she sat on Booth's sofa, silently remonstrating herself and wondering just what had possessed her to act on such a childish and illogical impulse. Admittedly it had been somewhat worth the look, but she didn't want her newfound partnership with Booth to be endangered by such actions. At the time, it had been fun, but if it continued?

Well, the thought also had merits as they were professionals and she was excellent at compartmentalising, but was Booth? At that point a soft footfall alerted her to his presence and she stood, turning to apologise again, when she caught sight of his appearance.

He wore a tight fitting white vest top that emphasised his defined pectorals beneath a plain white short-sleeved shirt and worn hip-hugger jeans that drew her eyes like iron to lodestones. Temperance swallowed and glanced up to meet Booth's eyes.

"Let's get you ready to dance," he said, his voice low and purring. Nervous butterflies began to stir in Temperance's stomach, but she assayed a defiant grin.

"Took you long enough," she said, "I was wondering if you were applying make-up." Booth snorted and grabbed his jacket as they walked down the hall, his hand settling dangerously low on her back.

The ride to her apartment was silent, Booth suddenly seeming to ooze confidence and a raw sexuality that made Temperance's hands damp and mouth go dry every time he looked at her. At first the effect had left her confused, but she was swiftly gaining in her own confidence and had decided that, if he was pulling out all the stops to look good, she might as well do the same.

_You want a challenge, Booth? You've got it_, Temperance thought, her mouth curling into a grin. Booth was beginning to become nervous on his side. When he had seen his partner's reaction, he had never felt more confident, but as his partner's smile began to grow, the seed of disquiet had begun to grow in his belly.

He glanced sideways at the same time she did and saw the determined, challenging glint in her eyes. Seeing it made him smirk as he pulled up outside her apartment complex.

"Here we go, Bones. Ready to rock 'n' roll?" he asked. A lazy smile crossed her face and she leaned closer.

"Always, Booth. Can you keep up?"

"Anytime, Baby," he postured. Her seductive act suddenly collapsed as she burst out laughing. "What?" he said, frowning in confusion. She paused and thrust out her chest and chin, lowering her voice impressively.

"Anytime, baby," she mocked, losing control a second later and clutching her sides. "Oh! That was so macho! My god!" Booth sulked at the wheel, annoyed he hadn't been able to keep her off balance for long.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," he muttered. She tittered in response and weakly pulled herself from the car. Booth's mood further diminished as each time she caught sight of him, Brennan squared her shoulders and jaw and deliberately swaggered until she could no longer take it and began to laugh. "Could you, I dunno, maybe stop laughing at me, Bones?" Booth pleaded softly. She pressed a soft hand to his arm and grinned at him.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I just found it amusing. I hope I didn't hurt your ego," she said. Booth huffed, wanting to stay mad, but amused despite his best attempts.

"Considering you lewdly stared at my body in the shower, I think I'm good," he muttered. Temperance turned pink and dropped her hand.

"It was just in revenge for you seeing me!" she protested. Booth smirked.

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said. She gave him an evil look, but refrained from commenting as the elevator opened onto their floor. A moment later and they were inside, Temperance skilfully removing her jacket, shows, purse and keys in a practiced motion.

"I'll be ten minutes," she said. "And I'm locking the door," she added. Booth glowered.

"I have morals!" he called. "I don't go peeping on people!"

"Just stealing their towels while they wear them!" Temperance's voice drifted back. Booth stomped into her kitchen and got himself a glass of juice from the refrigerator after giving it a wary glance before sitting down.

"Impossible woman," he muttered.

The promised ten minutes later, Booth eagerly watched the hands of his watch in anticipation of crowing his victory. There was no way she would be ready in time. Not with how he predicted she would look. He knew she would pull out all the stops just to upstage him. Not a chance she would be-

"Ready!" she called. Booth palmed his face and turned around, his eyes taking in the slinky black dress that plunged absurdly low between her breasts, hugging her curves and caressing the gentle swell of her breasts like a lover.

_Ah, hell_, he thought. She looked gorgeous, her eyes dusted with a smoky grey eye shadow and lips shining with a natural lip gloss that enhanced her natural beauty. She clutched a tiny black and gold purse and wore heels that made her silky smooth legs go on for miles and miles.

Booth felt his cheek twitch and pointed at her.

"You cheated!" he said. A slender eyebrow gracefully reached for the sky in response. "There is no way you got ready that fast!" he insisted. Her lips curled in another grin and he resisted the urge to stamp his feet. "Fine," he muttered petulantly, "so you did. I hope you can dance in those heels, partner, 'cause I'm not carrying you in here later!" She blithely ignored his statement as she lifted a small black jacket from her coat rack and slid it around her shoulders.

"Ready?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. Booth grumbled, feeling one-upped that she could get ready that fast and still look amazing.

"Let's paint the town red, Bones," he said. She frowned.

"I don't know what that means," she complained. Booth chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, Bones. Let's just go dance."

"And get bombed," she added. Booth grinned.

"Oh yeah. We are so getting bombed. After I dance you into the ground," he said.

"You wish," Temperance said as the door closed behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Déjà Vu Chapter 8

Déjà Vu Chapter 8

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

As soon as they entered the club, a wall of sound washed over them, bringing with it the combined smells of everything within: the sweet smell of liquors, the deep yeasty scent of beer, sweat, arousal and the thousands of different perfumes and colognes of the patrons. Booth darted his eyes around, suddenly aware it had been a long time since he had really been in a proper club. Bars were his normal hangout.

"What's the matter, Booth? You look a little tense!" Temperance called, her voice pitched to carry over the noise. Booth grumbled to himself and moved closer, very aware of just how much skin his partner was revealing.

"I'm fine!" he insisted. Her eyes twinkled with amusement at his obvious discomfort.

"Been a while, huh?" she said. Booth didn't miss the double entendre and fixed her with an annoyed look.

"Bones," he warned, moving in closer so his words communicated their full meaning. Temperance allowed her eyes to drop closed as his warm breath tickled her neck, a small grin tugging at her glossed lips. It was fun teasing him, she decided, especially when he teased her back. It was a challenge, and she freely admitted challenges were very stimulating.

"Yes, Booth?" she replied, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. He looked unconvinced and gave her a pointed look. Temperance laughed, whirling away and moving toward the bar. It was time to get the evening underway.

"Hey, Bones! Wait up!" Booth called, struggling his way through the crowd that seemed to part like the red sea before his partner and close up right behind. A small part of his mind wondered if this is how the pharaoh felt and he chuckled, finally catching up to his partner and placing a hand on her bare back. The feel of her smooth, silky skin beneath his hand distracted him and he found his thumb gently caressing her flesh without thought.

Temperance shivered slightly at the feel of Booth's hand on her back, but found herself enjoying the moment as she waited to be served, her body swaying to the forceful, energetic beat that pounded through her body. She pondered analysing the anthropological meanings behind the music, but forgot all about it when she glanced at her partner and saw him resting an elbow upon the counter, his head tilting up and down in time with the beat, dark eyes intense and carefree.

She realised he was talking to her and shook herself, silently admonishing her inability to concentrate on anything for more than a few moments at a time. A moment later and she sighed, realising the main point of their venture was to relax and enjoy herself.

"Hey, Bones! You okay?" Booth asked, his brow creasing in concern. Temperance nodded and leaned in closer.

"I'm fine! I'm trying not to over analyse," she admitted, looking sheepish. Booth looked surprised, but smiled.

"Wow! I gotta say, Bones, I'm impressed!" his attention diverted to the pretty barmaid and he gave her a charming smile. "Beer and a vodka orange, please!" he said. The girl nodded, her gaze lingering not on the handsome agent, but on Temperance's chest. Booth raised an eyebrow and glanced at his partner to see if she had noticed. She had, and was giving the barmaid a faintly amused look. Wow.

"Thank you," she said when the barmaid handed them their drinks. The barmaid winked and sauntered off, but Booth could only stare at his partner is something akin to shock. Had she been subtly flirting with the barmaid? "No, Booth, I wasn't flirting with the barmaid," Temperance said, poking him admonishingly in the chest. Booth boggled, and then wondered if he had said it out loud. "And no, you didn't say it out loud!" she giggled.

"The hell, Bones? When did you become a mind reader?" he demanded. She smirked and wagged a finger at him as she took a sip of her drink.

"The scientific probability to read minds if a myth, Booth. It's impossible," she said. "I just know you, that's all," she explained with a smile. He chuckled and took a deep swig of his beer, mentally noting it was already half empty.

"I guess you do, Bones," he said. Swiftly their drinks disappeared. "Ready for me to sweep you off your feet?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows comically. Temperance laughed and gave him a playful shove.

"Like I said earlier: you wish!" she said, turning around and weaving her way onto the dance floor. Booth growled as he once again got stuck in the crowd and found his partner being accosted by several overeager guys on the dance floor.

"Beat it!" he snapped, tugging her hand to spin her into his arms effortlessly. They glared, but did as instructed, slinking off into the crowd.

"That wasn't necessary, Booth," Temperance said, frowning at him in annoyance. He shrugged.

"How am I supposed to wow you with my dancing if you're dancing with someone else?" he reasoned. She blinked and tilted her head as they began to dance to the steady R&B beat.

"That actually sounded suspiciously like logic!" she teased. He snorted.

"Shut up and dance, Bones!" he ordered. The music was energetic and heady, and they both began dancing, Booth notably more awkward than his partner. After a minute of attempting not to make a fool of himself, he growled and realised that he felt awkward because he had to dance _with_ her. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, watching as she easily gyrated to the music. She was a great dancer, and it annoyed him immensely. "Right, game on, Seeley," he urged himself. His mind switched gears as he deliberately forgot he was dancing with his partner and concentrated more on dancing as if she were a woman he was hot for. That was how he did his best moves, after all.

Suddenly they were pressed up against one another, their hips joined as they gyrated rhythmically to the bass, the smooth crooning of the singer urging Booth's movements as he grasped Temperance around the waist and shoulders, smoothly dipping her and then rising to spin her out to arms length. She looked surprised, but not annoyed, and gleefully fell back into step with him when their bodies pressed together again.

"I was wondering when you'd actually start dancing!" she said loudly. "That chicken bobbing you were doing was annoying!"

"Chicken bobbing!?" Booth exclaimed. "I'll show you chicken bobbing!"

"Finally!" she replied. Booth began undulating their bodies together, his hand holding her forehead pressed to his own. She obviously had her own ideas, as the fiery gleam in her eyes told him just before she slipped from his grasp, turned around and ground her rear into his groin for a moment before whirling behind his back. Booth felt his nostrils flare as her unique scent filled his nose and monopolised his senses.

Temperance revelled in the music, allowing her body to move without conscious thought to the music. Idly, she wondered what it was that was playing, and made a note to look up the lyrics when she got home before she shook the thoughts away and continued dancing. She ran her hands down her partner's back and then around to his front, caressing the underlying muscle with her fingers as she swayed against his body. His hands weren't idle, smoothing over her hips seductively until he caught her hand and spun the pair of them around until they faced each other.

"So what do you think of my dancing now, Bones?" he asked as their bodies moulded together. Her eyes blazed with a fierce, visceral enjoyment in response, her face intense and passionate as they danced nose to nose.

"You're not bad," she conceded breathlessly after he brought her up from another low tip, secretly enjoying how close his face got to her unblemished, silky skin. He hugged her to him after pulling her in from a pirouette and raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"Not bad? Is that all?" he said. She smirked and slithered out of his grasp to slide between his legs and up his back in a single, sinuous movement that left his head spinning as her breath whispered over his ear.

"Yes, not bad," she repeated. Both were oblivious to the wide berth the rest of the dance floor were giving them, completely intent on each other as they battled for dominance.

"Fine, I'll prove I'm better than you," he ground out, clutching her body and hefting her into the air to sling her around his body. All he could hear was the music, the frantic pounding of his heart and her excited breaths that puffed against his skin each time she drew close.

Temperance pulled on her experiences in Italy to roll with the motion, easily trusting Booth not to let her go as she completed the move and span away, his hand clutched in her own. She let it go and stalked purposefully toward him, pushing him back with her presence until he stopped and met her nose to nose again.

"Let's see what you've got, Agent Booth," she teased. They span together, and she fell into another dip again, marvelling at how sturdy his arms felt beneath her own. "You like dips?" she smirked, lifting her legs up to balance herself on his hip and caress his face before she slid down his leg and sprang to her feet. "Or is it just my breasts you're after?" she called.

Booth growled and pulled her close again, feeling her hand flatten against his chest and squeeze.

"You're the one who's groping me, Bones," he laughed. They both felt the song come to an end and paused, feeling tired from their exertions. Then the club erupted into cheers and catcalls that made them glance around self-consciously. The entire club had formed a ring to watch them dance together.

They flushed and gave awkward smiles before fleeing to the bar and ordering themselves several drinks.

"I think it's time to get blitzed," Temperance admitted, grasping her second vodka orange in a row. Booth nodded, downing his beer and slamming it onto the bar.

"Yeah, I think so too. And you need to admit I'm a better dancer than you are," he added. Temperance rolled her eyes and signalled the barmaid for another drink.

"Not likely," she muttered.

"Oh come on, Bones! I was leading the entire time!" Booth complained.

"No you weren't! We danced _together_, Booth. Both of us were leading!" Temperance explained, knocking back another drink swiftly. Booth signalled the barmaid for some whiskey and settled his elbows on the bar.

"Whatever you say, Bones," he said dryly. They shared competitive smirks and gently knocked their glasses together. They spent the next few minutes in an easy silence, subconsciously leaning on each other as they turned to observe the club around them. Occasionally they would share a look and smile easily at each other, finally finding something that didn't force them to feel a continual never ending cycle of déjà vu. "Hey, Bones," Booth began.

"Yeah?" Temperance replied.

"Feel like dancing some more?" he asked. She nodded and finished her drink before leading him back onto the dance floor. They were a little more subdued this time, sticking close to the other as song after song played through, sharing happy smiles and short bursts of laughter whenever the other did something awkward caused by their increasing inebriation.

On their third break to the bar, Booth realised that since their first dance, they hadn't stopped physically touching each other, evidenced by the way Temperance's shoulder rested on his own.

"Better go to the bathroom," he said, nodding toward it in indication. She nodded and stood up, wobbling slightly. He steadied her and they shared another laugh as they made their way to their respective bathrooms, exchanging quick grins before turning away and disappearing.

They met up after a few minutes; both sporting annoyed expressions that melted into more smiles when they made eye contact.

"More drinks?" Temperance suggested. Booth tilted his head and thought about his wallet.

"Not got much more cash," he admitted. She pouted in disappointment. "You still got that saucy stuff?" he asked. She giggled.

"Saucy, huh? Yeah I got my saucy stuff," she teased. He rolled his eyes and directed her to begin winding their way to the exit.

"Yeah, you love your sauce," he joked, and then yelped when he felt a hand pinch his buttocks.

"Ah, jus' as firm as I thought," Temperance said.

"Bones!" Booth hissed. "No pinching my ass!" she gave him an arch look.

"I'll pinch if I want," she stated, pinching him again.

"Pinch me, I pinch you!" he snapped, pinching her in return. She squealed and he began laughing at the overly feminine sound.

The air outside was cool, making Temperance shiver as she rubbed her arms. She felt Booth move up behind her and wrap his arms around her torso, enveloping her in his warmth and scent.

"Tanks," she said idly. His chest jumped slightly as he muffled a laugh and she twisted to glare sideways at him. "Don' laugh at me," she said, digging her elbow into his stomach meaningfully. He rolled his eyes and briefly lifted a hand to signal a cab over.

"Yes, Bones," he said, sounding like a long-suffering husband.

"You're mocking me," she said, frowning at him cutely. He grinned and hugged her closer, resting his chin on the crook of her neck.

"Maybe," he said. She made a soft sound of protest at his admission, but leant her head against his own.

"Mean," she muttered. His smile still in place, Booth nudged her cheek with his nose.

"Evil," he responded. She made a sound similar to an unhappy cat and he chuckled softly.

"How'm I evil?" she asked, sounding confused. "I catch bad guys."

"Not evil, evil," Booth said, "you're…girly evil." The noise came again, and Booth decided he rather liked it.

"Whass 'girly evil?'" Temperance demanded, making little quotations in the air.

"You tease me," Booth grumbled into her neck. He began noticing just how much softer the skin of her neck was and sniffed it curiously. She giggled and squirmed against him.

"Stop that," she said. He grinned and took a deliberately deep sniff just beneath her jaw bone. She shrieked in laughter and her squirming intensified. "No! Tickles!" she giggled.

"Mmm…sorry, Bones. Smells nice!" Booth muttered. The taxi arrived and he opened the door with one hand, keeping himself moulded to her body. She didn't seem to mind and giggled as he manoeuvred them into the back seat. "Ticklish, Bones?" Booth asked, allowing his fingers to dance along her ribs. Her resulting squeal was worthy of Angela and he blinked, momentarily deafened. "Ow."

He noticed the driver grinning at him from the front seat and grinned back before giving Temperance's address. She sat across his lap, looking fairly content to remain as long as he didn't tickle her, her blue eyes languidly taking in the scenery out the back window while she rested her chin on his shoulder. He grinned evilly and sniffed her again, making her laugh.

"Booth, stop! It tickles!" she protested and drew back. He pouted.

"You love it," he said. She sighed and leant against him again.

"You keep sayin' that," she murmured.

"Makes it true," he replied, staring up at the ceiling of the cab. She gave a throaty chuckle before they lapsed into comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey.

When the cab arrived at her apartment complex, she handed him her purse to grab some money for the driver before hopping out of the car and waiting for him to emerge.

"Got my keys," she explained at his curious look. He nodded and returned her purse as they entered the building, exchanging laughs every time one of them wobbled drunkenly.

"Hey, Bones," Booth said as they waited for the elevator.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"We should do this more often," he said. She grinned and poked him in the chest.

"You jus' wanna dance with me more so you c'n get better," she teased. He glared in mock outrage.

"Hey these moves are _smooth_," he said, doing a little dance and drawing out the last word as he did so. Temperance burst out laughing and leaned against the wall to support herself as she struggled to stay upright. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"The, the hip wiggle!" she gasped, lapsing back into hysterical giggles. "'S like Travolta! Oh god!" she finally gave up standing and slid down the wall, laughing all the while. Booth felt torn between amusement that she knew about Travolta and pure outrage that she was laughing at his sexy wiggle.

"Stop laughing at my hip wiggle!" he demanded. Her laughter, which had tapered off slightly, renewed again. Booth pouted and hauled her upright as the elevator opened, supporting her through her fit until she rested against him, her breath hitching every so often, a bright smile on her lips. "So you think I'm funny, huh?" he said wryly. Her eyes were dazzling and happy as she nodded.

"Yup! You," she said, jabbing his chest again, "think you're a reg'lar Casanova." Booth smirked as the doors opened and they staggered into the hall.

"'Snot my fault if I'm irr'sist'ble to the ladies," he boasted. She snorted as she pulled out her apartment keys.

"I c'n res'st you," she announced, poking her tongue out as the door opened. "Woops!" Booth watched as she leant against the open door, which fell open under her weight, tipping her onto the floor. His arms darted out and she made an odd sound as he caught her and cradled her in his arms.

"Well, you seem to be falling for me," he teased, his face stretched in a roguish grin. She slapped him playfully on the shoulder and tottered in the direction of the kitchen when he set her back on her feet. After a rueful chuckle and an appreciative glance at her disappearing rear end, he closed the front door gently and followed, finding her standing on her bare tip-toes and trying to reach an unopened bottle.

When she heard him enter, Temperance turned her most adorable, pleading look against her partner.

"Booth!" she called plaintively, wiggling her still upraised digits which were just out of reach of her target. His face smug, Booth sauntered over and gave the bottle a cocky look.

"Hang on there, Bones. This'll be easy," he said. So saying, he picked her up around the waist and lifted her within reaching distance, ignoring her surprised squawk and the subsequent rain of slaps that began falling on his skull. "Are you gonna get th' bottle or bludgeon me to death?" he muttered, his face pressed to her rear. There was a pause, and she giggled.

"Seeley's a pervert," she sang cheerfully. He was so surprised he nearly dropped her, managing to lower her back to her feet at the last moment.

"What the hell, Bones! I'm no perv!" he protested. She took a swig of the liqueur and wagged a finger at him.

"Yes you are," she insisted. "Men 're anthop'logic'ly hardwired to perv on girls. You were sniffing me all night," she said, a knowing glint in her eye. Booth turned pink and leaned back on the counter top.

"You didn't stop me," he replied, flustered. She giggled and leaned on his chest, her blue eyes blinking at him innocently.

"Aww," she cooed, "it's okay. I'm jus' irr'sist'ble," she said, echoing his previous boast. He sighed and filched the bottle from her hands.

"I need this more'n you," he said reasonably. She giggled and headed for her couch, giving him an occasional smile over her shoulder. Unable to stay morose, he gave up moping and followed her, taking the occasional swig from the bottle. "Shouldn't we get glasses?" he asked, feeling a warm burn start in his belly as the alcohol settled. She smiled and shook her head, her curls bouncing around her head.

"Nah. You can pretend you're kissing me easier if we share th' bottle," she said. Booth choked and began coughing, sending Temperance into gales of laughter. When he calmed down and before he could speak, she laid her head on his lap and gazed up at him affectionately. "'S nice," she sighed. Booth nodded mutely and handed her back the bottle after seeing her demanding fingers wiggling for it.

"True," he said. They sat in silence for a few minutes until she spoke up again.

"Booth?" she said. He glanced down at her.

"Yeah?"

"You won't leave, will you?" she asked. Her eyes were serious now, and she clutched the bottle tightly in her hands. Booth ran his fingers through a lock of her hair and smiled down at her softly.

"Nah, I ain't goin' nowhere," he murmured. "Gotta stick together, hey?" her smile was blinding as she snuggled up to him.

"Thanks," she muttered into his stomach. He laughed.

"You're more fun when you're smashed anyway," he said. An eye peeked up at him curiously through auburn waves. "The guys are all rowdy," he explained. "It gets boring. Plus you're prettier," he added with a grin. She laughed and offered him the bottle again. "I have more fun with you anyway," he muttered to himself.

"Why'sat?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Dunno. Just do. Pity you don' like sports," he commiserated. She gave a throaty chuckle.

"Who said I don't? It'sa modern vers'n of battle," she said. "Lotsa sweaty men," she laughed. Booth frowned.

"You talkin' 'bout wrestlin'?" he asked. She shook her head, making him jump. "Hey! Careful!" he cautioned. Her eyes twinkled and Booth had a sudden sinking feeling that made him hurriedly place the bottle on her coffee table. "Bones, no!" he called as she began wiggling her head in his groin. "Stop it! Temperance, please!" She stopped and pouted up at him.

"No fair," she muttered, "you played the name card." He gently removed her from his lap and scooted further away.

"You get grabby," he explained. "I don't want your mouth near there," he added. She pouted again.

"What you don' like my mouth?" she asked.

"I am so not answering that," he replied. A wolfish smile appeared on her face that made his eyes widen comically. "Bones," he warned as she got onto her hands and knees. "Temperance?" he asked. She looked ready to pounce. "Oh hell no," he muttered, leaping to his feet and vaulting over her nearby chair just as she lunged for him.

"Come back!" she demanded, hopping up and tugging her dress off. "Stupid dress," she muttered before dashing off in hot pursuit.

"Bones leave me alone!" Booth shouted. "The hell is wrong with you, woman!?" He darted into her room and tried hiding in her massive closet. He heard her laugh devilishly and peeked out, only to jerk back as he saw her in her underwear. "Oh Christ," he muttered, fervently crossing himself. this was a side of his partner he definitely had not expected. "Maybe I should draw the line for her? No crossing the line," he muttered. The door opened and Temperance grinned victoriously. "Um…mercy?" Booth tried.

"C'mere!" Temperance said gleefully. Booth squawked in protest and shortly found himself flipped onto the floor and writhing weakly.

"No! tickles! Stop! Please! Mercy! MERCY!" he howled. Temperance blew a raspberry and disappeared into her closet. Booth sighed and took the time to gather his breath until his partner re-emerged in a t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts. "Wow, small shorts, Bones," he commented, levering himself up onto his elbows. She pushed him back down with a hand to his face as she sauntered past. "Hey!" he protested.

"Pervert!" she sang. "Having bad thoughts, Agent Booth? Thought you'd get lucky?" Booth spluttered.

"No!" he called, following after her. "I was not! And you shouldn't run around in your underwear, anyway! There's a line," he began, emerging into the lounge. A pillow to his face cut him off.

"Oh shut up 'bout the line," Temperance groused. "Stupid line's no fun anyway." Booth mentally agreed before he could stop himself.

"That's not the point!" he said, settling himself on the couch next to her. She regarded him levelly, her face scrunched in an annoyed expression.

"'T is the point, Booth. You wanna put rules on our friendship," she said. Booth blinked and tried to come up with something to say, only coming up with his initial reaction, which in hindsight didn't really make much sense. "See? Even he," Temperance poked his head, "agrees with me. So shut up and give me my drink," she ordered imperiously. Booth chuckled and passed her the bottle. He leant back and propped his elbow on the back of the couch.

"Pity I'm not 's smart 's you," he reasoned. She gave him a winsome smile before smacking him about the head. "Ow! What the hell, Bones!?" he exclaimed. She poked him in the chest pointedly.

"You're smart here," she said evenly. "'Snot your job to be smart here," she tapped her own head. "That's my job. You wouldn't take my job would ya?" she asked. Booth chuckled and slung his arm around her shoulders.

"Nah, Bones. I wouldn't take your job. I'd be crap at it," he added. She nodded in agreement.

"Yup."

"That's not nice, Bones," he said. She smirked and downed another swig from the bottle.

"Shut up 'n' drink, Seeley," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. She hit him. "Ow! What the hell? Stop hitting me!" he demanded.

"Don' call me ma'am," she drawled.

"Yes, Bones," he said with a smirk. Temperance considered for a moment before hitting him again.

"Ow! Are you gonna hit me for everything?" he whined. She smiled.

"Yup!"

"This is abuse," Booth muttered, flinching when her hand moved in his direction. She gave a low chuckle and threaded her hands in his hair instead.

"Wuss," she teased. Booth sighed and snatched the bottle again.

"We can't even watch anything," he said.

"Got a TV in the bedroom," Temperance said, her eyes lidded and amused.

"Hell no, I'm not going in there!" Booth said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I'd be bound and gagged under your bed inside ten minutes," he groused. She laughed loudly in response and leaned in close, her lips tracing his earlobe gently.

"Only if you asked me to," she giggled. Booth swallowed and lowered the bottle over his waist.

"Let's talk about something else!" he squeaked. Temperance sniggered and lay her head on his shoulder.

"When d'you have Parker?" she asked. Booth felt a smile tug at his lips at the thought of his son and rested his cheek in his partner's hair.

"Next weekend," he murmured. "An' when did I tell you his name?" he asked. She slapped his chest half-heartedly.

"Idiot," she snorted. "Take a guess." He blinked and then nodded in acceptance.

"Oh right," he said. "We still have to get you a new refrigerator," he added. He felt her cheeks twitch on his shoulder as she fought a smile.

"You loathe my fridge," she said. He nodded.

"Yeah. I really, really do. Can I pick the new one?" he asked. She nodded.

"Okay. No clear ones," she said. "Won' go with the décor," she added. Booth threaded a hand into her hair and took a deep, satisfied breath of her, mentally tallying her different scents.

_Strawberries, raspberries, apple, sandalwood, honey? Huh,_ he thought. He heard her give a throaty chuckle.

"No perving," she said.

"You sniff me," he replied evenly. She shrugged.

"Girls get away with it," she said. He laughed.

"That's BS," he said. "If I can't do it, neither can you."

"Fine," she muttered. "Perv away." She snuggled closer and nibbled on his shoulder.

"You're nibbling," Booth said.

"Shut up," she replied, "Can if I want to." Booth rolled his eyes and gave up.

"Music?" he offered. She made an agreeing sound and clambered over the back of the couch toward her hi-fi, humming a song to herself. "Play something cool!" he said, "None of that weird stuff!" the pillow he had dropped when he caught it bounced off of the back of his head. He ignored it and sat with a smile on his face. Soon the stereo began pumping out a complicated guitar riff and his head swivelled.

"Guns 'n' Roses? Sweet!" He hopped up and began banging his head to the music, strumming an imaginary air guitar.

"My hero," Temperance commented wryly, making him flush awkwardly. After a short pause he ignored her and carried on, lost in his own world. He carried on for two more songs before he realised she had perched on the arm of her couch and was watching him, her face flushed from alcohol and eyes bright and twinkling.

"What?" he said, giving her a sheepish grin. She shook her head and allowed herself to topple sideways onto the cushions, landing with her head propped on her hand.

"'M hungry," she muttered, her face twisting into a frown. Booth rubbed his stomach as it made a dangerous growl of agreement.

"Me too," he said. Leaving the stereo playing, they headed for her kitchen and began rummaging in the cupboards. "Bones, don't you have any real food?" Booth complained bitterly after finding yet another healthy alternative food dish. She glared and pulled out a bar of cheese from the fridge before heading toward the nearest cupboard to retrieve some pasta. Booth's eyes lit up. "Mac 'n' Cheese!" he crowed, scooping his partner up into his arms and twirling her around. "Awesome!" She laughed and shook her head.

"Put me down, Booth. 'M already drunk. Don't wanna burn myself 'cause you made me dizzy." Booth looked contrite and busied himself with pulling out a cheese grater and bowl from her cupboards.

"Makin' myself useful," he said, upon spotting her raised eyebrows. She grinned.

"'Bout time," she teased, grabbing the rest of the ingredients from the cupboards.

Twenty minutes later, Booth shovelled the meal into his mouth as fast as he was able.

"Slow down, Booth," Temperance admonished, pouring them a glass of white wine. Booth eyed it mistrustfully, but eventually acceded to her pointed look and took a tentative sip.

"Hey, not bad," he mumbled before letting out a belch. Temperance wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Sorry," Booth said.

"Pig," she muttered, daintily taking another bite from her portion. Booth stuck his tongue out and inhaled the rest.

"Yum," he pronounced, rubbing his stomach happily. Temperance smiled and covered a yawn. "Tired, Bones?" he asked. She nodded, brushing a lock of hair over her ear.

"Mmm. Don' wanna sleep though," she said. "'M havin' fun." Another yawn ruined the sleepy smile that spread across her face. Booth chuckled and took away her half-eaten plate, stowing it in the fridge before returning and scooping her up. her arms automatically curled around his neck when she buried her face in his throat.

"Time f' bed, Bones," Booth murmured as he trundled down her hallway. Temperance made a sleepy sound of acknowledgement as he entered her room and began setting her down on the bed. He ran into a problem however, when she refused to let go. "Leggo, Bones," Booth muttered, tugging on her arms gently. Her mouth curled into an impish smile and she shook her head.

"Nope," she said. Booth sighed and picked her up again, shifting his partner closer to the centre of the large double bed.

"You're a pain, Bones," he said with a grin. She snuggled closer to his body and sighed.

"Yup," she answered softly, nuzzling against his throat.

"Wouldn't have y' any other way," he added. Her response was an indistinct whisper halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. "Night, Bones," Booth said. She hummed again and pressed a soft kiss to his throat that made his heart speed up. He took a deep draw on her scent once more before cuddling her close and dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. He was asleep within two minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

Déjà Vu Chapter 9

Déjà Vu Chapter 9

Author's Note: I have to say I'm immensely disappointed with the overall response this story's gotten. Especially considering that other stories with far less effort or believable characterisation get hundreds of reviews. I know I sound bitter, but in all honesty, that's how I feel. I put hours into writing each chapter, and I barely get any response at all.

So, for now, this story's on hiatus, despite how much I like writing it. I do it to write, yes, but I also do it to get feedback from the people who read it so I can improve. It takes barely more than three minutes to write a signed review. I know, I do it all the time.

You want me to keep going? Then review. Take a little time to feed back to someone who does something you enjoy.

Anyway, here's the chapter:

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

They were falling; the air rushing past so fast it was being snatched from their lungs. They only had each other, and clung together as if the other was their lifeline. Objects flew past: weapons, shredded items of clothing, canisters of some unknown material marked with a biohazard sign, even pictures of their friends.

There was no ground, nothing for them to touch down upon, nothing to slow their frantic, tumbling descent into the chaotic void around them. His lips were moving, but there was no sound other than the rushing wind and silent plea in his eyes. He wanted it to end too.

Bodies fell past them now, skeletal remains and mutilated corpses all. Slowly, she began to feel a sense of familiarity from each and every body. Names began forming nebulously in her mind, but every time they seemed within her grasp they drifted away like sand between her fingers.

The terror began building again, she knew not why. She felt pursuit, a malevolence and desire for her death that she had rarely experienced in her lifetime. Images flashed across her consciousness, fleeting snippets of her life from before all this. Herself, standing before a hot dog stand with her partner, then crouching, terrified as the vendor fell back, his face a gory mess. Herself again, fear etched upon her face and running through carefully tended grounds as plumes of dirt rocketed toward the sky around her body. Then she saw it, its smooth metal surface pristine and polished as he reached for it once again.

She felt the scream tear itself loose from her throat and thrashed in terror as the world dissolved into hellish flames, something constricting and stopping her from moving to save him.

"Temperance!" Her eyes snapped open and she sucked deep breaths of air into her lungs, her sapphire eyes wide and panicked as she stared into her partner's warm, caring orbs. "It's okay, we're okay," he soothed. She sobbed and clutched her fingers deeply into his hair, holding him as close as she could and allowing her senses to drown in his scent and the feel of his body against hers.

"We were-" she began.

"I know," Seeley murmured, his own face buried in the junction of her neck and shoulder. "I know," he said. One of his hands cradled her head gently, the other drawing soothing circles with his palm on her back beneath her top. The contact with his skin calmed her, and she felt her muscles relax as her temperature rapidly rose with a blush.

"Sorry," she whispered, attempting to draw back a little. As he was on top of her, she only managed to gain an inch or so. His eyes bored into hers, and she noticed the pallor of his skin. "You had it, too?" she asked. He nodded wordlessly, and released a shaky breath.

"Yeah," he said at length. "Guess we better get up," he suggested. Temperance tilted her head to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table and saw the time.

"Five a.m.?" she muttered. "Booth, we don't have to be in for hours," she said and tightened her grip. She realised that after the dream she didn't want to let him go and threaded her legs into his, trapping him. His face looked tense and he tried to rise again. "Stop being stupid," she muttered and snuggled down further, still feeling the odd world-tilting sensation she associated with the effects of alcohol in her system. He grumbled softly, but relented and relaxed, pulling her with him when he rolled onto his back. The pair drifted off into a fitful sleep, their bodies entwined together.

Angela trotted energetically around the corner of the Jeffersonian medico-legal lab, eager to reach the 'box room' and find out if her best friend and her hunky piece of man candy actually were from a long-distant future filled with gorgeous, brainy babies. She paused, realising that she was getting ahead of herself, but failed to wipe the wide grin off of her face when she spotted her favourite non-couple standing, heads together.

They looked in her direction, and she goggled in shock.

"Sweetie! What the hell happened to you?! You look like you could play a part in 'Thriller!'" she said. The comment brought a faint smirk to Booth's lips that quickly disappeared behind the gigantic cup of coffee he held protectively in his hands. From the deep circles on both his and Brennan's faces, Angela wondered if they were suffering from hangovers or if they had contracted some type of terrible disease.

"I don't know what that means," Temperance began, "but I sense I should be protesting." Her voice was shockingly quiet, and Angela gave her best friend a brief hug.

"Okay, what's up?" she said. Booth grunted and swallowed a heroic amount of his coffee.

"Bad dreams," he muttered. Angela looked at them both.

"What, both of you?" she said. They nodded in simultaneously. "I've got to tell Jack," she muttered. They shared one the looks she had seen them exchange recently, simultaneously amused and warning, and she frowned. "Okay, what? What is it?" Tiny grins grew on their faces and she felt herself getting annoyed. "Bren," she growled, coming off more cute than dangerous, "tell me," she pleaded. Their little grins grew into smirks and they turned and walked toward the 'box room,' leaving her standing on her own and stomping her foot in frustration.

"We're going to hell," Seeley muttered. Temperance reigned in a chuckle and settled for a mysterious smile that made her look like a seductive mental patient. Seeley bit his lip to muffle the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips at the thought, but was unable to contain the small snort that made his partner's piercing blue eyes slide toward him.

"What?" she asked, sounding curious and annoyed.

"Nothing," he said, desperately hoping she wouldn't press any further. She scowled.

"Booth," she warned, her slightly scratchy voice sounding like a growling Chihuahua. Unable to stop himself, Seeley giggled and then clapped a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes silently apologetic. "Tell me," she growled again. He guffawed.

"You sound like a Chihuahua," he giggled, frantically trying to stop. _Men do not giggle_, he chided himself. He winced when she slugged his arm painfully. "Jesus, Bones! Stop with the violence already!"

"You called me a dog!" she snapped. He sighed theatrically.

"No, Bones, I called you a Chihuahua, which is a small, cute little doggy."

"A dog!" she reiterated.

"Just take it that I called you cute, okay?" Seeley said. Her mouth opened, an angry retort on her tongue, then closed as a befuddled look settled across her face.

"Wha-?" she said.

"Oh, very eloquent, Bones," he teased as they entered the box room. He was saved further violence by the presence of the rest of the team, minus Angela, who appeared a minute later with an evil glare at the pair of them. Goodman stepped forward from his place by the box and eyed the pair's less than stellar appearance curiously before speaking.

"Let me point out, that this by no means is conclusive proof. Further study would be needed to ascertain whether or not this was a one off occurrence or not. That being said, we shall begin," he said. Jack and Zach eagerly leaned forward, attempting to discern the code, but Goodman foiled their attempts by covering the pad with his hand. "Mr Addy, Dr. Hodgins," he warned. Their faces fell and they leaned back, both crossing their arms childishly. Seeley suppressed a smile.

A high-pitched electronic beep sounded as the red light on the box's locking mechanism turned green and Dr. Goodman lifted the lid to retrieve both envelopes. He turned his dark gaze toward Brennan and Booth and raised an eyebrow. "If you would please recap for us all?" he said.

"It was Ken Thompson in his Tropical Fish room with a sledgehammer," Temperance said. Seeley found a grin tweak his lips.

"Nah, I say it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick," he joked. His partner frowned at him.

"I don't know what that means," she admitted. Zach also looked perplexed and opened his mouth to refute his claim.

"It's a joke, people!" Seeley exclaimed. "God, you people have no sense of humour!" he huffed. Goodman raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Hodgins and Angela.

"I resent that fact, Agent Booth," he said. "I have a very well developed sense of humour, and employ it in a variety of engaging and enjoyable encounters," he added. Angela nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, hear, hear!" she chimed. Seeley scrubbed his face in defeat.

"Alright, fine. _Some_ of you have senses of humour," he said. "And can we get on with this, please?" Goodman looked as if he were fighting a smile, but nodded magnanimously and turned his attention to the envelopes. Temperance took the opportunity to make her displeasure known by stamping on her partner's toes. Seeley felt his eyes water from the pain and struggled to stay silent, finally allowing a pained little whimper escape his lips as he lent all his weight on his good foot. "Not cool, Bones!" he hissed. She arched an eyebrow at him smugly and he hung his head, feeling suitably chastised.

"It would appear that Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan are both either exceedingly good at piecing together the pieces of evidence in a very short space of time, or they are in fact in possession of a degree of foreknowledge as yet uncovered," Goodman said, his expression serious. His demeanour faltered slightly when Zach nearly tore the envelopes out of his hands, his eyes quickly speeding over the written statements.

Temperance felt her face heating up inexplicably when her assistant stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"It would appear that you and Agent Booth were correct, Dr. Brennan," he said, blindly passing the notes to Hodgins' eager hands. The entomologist read the notes quickly, his eyes widening.

"Cool," he breathed reverently, "this is completely awesome." Temperance exchanged a glance with her partner and shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, how far does this info go? Do you know who's the next president?" he asked gleefully. Temperance shook her head, her forehead creased in thought.

"I don't think so," she said. "Booth?" He also shook his head with a shrug.

"I got nothin', Bones," he said. Hodgins pouted in disappointment, but still looked thrilled with the success of the experiment.

"What do they say?" Angela asked. Jack grinned and handed over the notes cheerfully.

"Knock yourself out, Angela," he said. After a brief smile of thanks, her dark eyes flickered across her friend's handwriting.

_The murder was committed by Ken Thompson in his Aquarium room with a rolled steel sledgehammer_, it said. She glanced at Booth's note and smirked. _Ken Thompson in the fish room with the sledgehammer_. His Cluedo joke was much more amusing in hindsight, she reasoned.

"So now what?" she asked. Everyone glanced at each other and shrugged.

"I propose that, the next time Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth have a bout of déjà vu due to a case, that they inform me immediately. I will then take their written statements and lock them within the box before they speak to any of you on the matter. Agreed?" Dr. Goodman said. Everyone exchanged thoughtful looks and nodded in tentative agreement. "Excellent. Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan? A word, please," he said.

They followed him into the corridor and away from prying ears before he stopped and looked at the pair of them, his expression grave. "You are no doubt aware of the severity of such information should it fall into the wrong hands," he began. "Defending attorneys would have a field day about the agents who could 'predict the future' and pin the blame on their clients. I know you are two intelligent, perhaps very intelligent," he amended at Brennan's look, "people, but you cannot speak to anyone on this issue."

"We know," Temperance said simply, her face pale at the blunt statement of the possible consequences. "We both agreed before any of this started we must follow the evidence, no matter how much we know about anything happening." Seeley nodded his agreement, sliding his hand around to his partner's waist from its place on her lower back in support.

"Yeah. Playing by the rules," he said. Goodman nodded, releasing a sigh as he did so.

"That is something to be thankful for," he said. He gazed at the pair of them for a moment before motioning for them to follow again and heading for his office. When they arrived, he gestured for them to sit and did so himself, tenting his fingers pensively. "How bad is it?" he asked. At their looks, he elaborated. "This…déjà vu. For a normal person, just once, it could be disorienting, but you?" His dark eyes reflected only concern and they both felt relief that they might have someone else to speak to on the issue.

"It's hard," Seeley admitted grimly. "It can get so bad you just wanna hurl and lock yourself in a small, dark room just to make it stop."

"Knowing what someone will say even as they speak the first syllable is also not pleasant," Temperance admitted ruefully. "It's hard to find solace in anything that I would normally do," she said. "I look at a book I've just bought and not read and I already know its contents. Music sometimes brings a flood of sensation and…" she trailed off, remembering the nightmares.

"Nightmares," Seeley muttered with a grimace. Goodman blinked and sat forward intently.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The pair exchanged an uneasy look, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Everything you say will be in confidence," Goodman assured. "I would be remiss in my duties if I saw an issue with an employee and did nothing to help." Temperance sighed, not wanting to relive the harrowing ordeal her mind subjected her to and closed her eyes.

"Dr. Goodman," Seeley began, "it's not you…it's just… the nightmares are…they're really screwed up, okay?" he said weakly. Goodman sighed again, but nodded.

"I would not expect you to confide something that distresses you so obviously, but my door is always open. Please remember that," he said. They nodded, relieved.

"Dr. Goodman," Temperance said, "thank you. For understanding," she added at his curious look. His usually stern expression softened significantly.

"This may surprise you, Dr. Brennan," he said, "but I tend to think of the staff here as something of a surrogate family. I will do everything that I can in order to ensure they remain happy. Productivity has nothing to do with it, despite appearances to the contrary," he joked gently. Temperance allowed a warm smile to grace her face as she stood and nodded.

"That's nice to know. We will come to you if we…feel anything about a case," she said.

"Thanks, man," Seeley added as he thrust his hands in his pockets. Goodman rose, his expression once more firm and somewhat aristocratic.

"You are both welcome. I won't take any more of your valuable time," he said smoothly. They nodded and left, feeling a little better. Goodman watched them go with a neutral expression before reclaiming his seat and rubbing his eyes tiredly. After a moment, he opened the top drawer of his desk and regarded a small mahogany rosary before lifting it into his hands.

_You work in mysterious ways, Lord,_ he thought to himself as his jaw flexed. The situation was beyond his understanding, but something told him that whatever plagued Booth and Brennan's nightmares was big. He prayed Hodgins didn't catch wind of whatever it was, or he would never leave the duo alone to deal with it.

Temperance sat back on her couch with a sigh, something she was doing increasingly often as of late. She hated the despondent feeling that seemed to cloud her days in perpetuity, but aside from doing things that made her feel uncomfortable and out of her element, she found no solace in things she loved. Each limbo case was filled with little intuitions that easily led her to conclusions and results. While that meant that she knew the results of each case quickly, it also meant that she had to grind through the entire process tortuously in order to verify her feelings.

She likened it to putting her head in a vice and voluntarily tightening it with cheerful enthusiasm. She knew Booth was not having it any easier. He confessed to her the last time they had pie at the diner that work at the bureau was also similarly painful. He also said he could not say much without people getting suspicious of his 'intuition' and calling him on it and said that it was driving him crazy.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Temperance rose and padded to her kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and a glass, returning quickly and pouring herself a generous measure. She swirled the red liquid around, savouring the heady aroma of the ingredients and pondered the strange turn in her life. She had always been perfectly content with her job and her lifestyle, yet now it seemed to bring nothing but grating monotony.

Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes as she felt the joy she took from giving anonymous corpses their names and families back snatched away from her. She still felt the pleasurable sensation upon completing a case, but the getting there was agonising when all she wanted to do was give the answers she knew she would find.

When her grip on the glass become dangerously close to damaging, she set it down and brought a pillow up to her face, unleashing a muffled screech of frustration and pent-up rage. How could this happen to her? She wondered. It could well completely consume and destroy her life, and the constant drain she felt as people parroted the words she heard in her mind day after day was slowly but surely crushing her.

She sat, gulping deep breaths and struggling to maintain her composure in the wake of the realisations that had been forming ever since her discussion with Booth and Dr. Goodman the week prior when a knock at her door brought her head up with a startled jerk. Frantically she raced for the mirror and assessed her appearance, grimacing when she saw the red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks.

_Not good_, she thought, scrubbing quickly at her face with the sleeve of her blouse before moving to the door. A glance confirmed her suspicion and she opened the door to give her partner a wobbly smile.

"Hey, Booth," she said. His face was gentle, his dark eyes concerned and sympathetic as he gazed at her, taking in the splotchy cheeks and eyes bright with welling tears.

"Hey Temperance," he murmured softly. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" he asked. She shook her head, her auburn hair bouncing slightly with the motion.

"No, it's too early to sleep," she said, glancing at her wall mounted clock that read 10:30pm.

"If you say so," he said, a faint smile curling his lips. She braved a smile, but it quickly withered and died. "You okay?" he asked, crossing her threshold and closing the door with a push. Her throat closed up and she tried to nod, even as her vision blurred.

"'M not crying," she pointed out, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Something in your eye?" he asked, stepping closer. Her head rose and fell in a nod as she drew an unsteady breath.

"Yeah," she muttered. He slung an arm around her shoulders and guided them to the couch.

"Tell me about it," he said, "had that myself today." A few tears trickled down her cheeks as she blinked at him.

"Really?" she said, not quite believing him. He leaned back into her couch and eyed her glass of wine.

"Really," he muttered bitterly. "You mind?" he asked, gesturing to the glass. Her head shook and he downed the glass in two large gulps. "Yeah. Today's not been fun," he whispered. "What do you do when the thing you love feels like a chore?" he asked after several minutes of silence. A sob broke free of her control before she could stop herself and she felt her body shudder.

"It's not fair!" she hissed, suddenly consumed by a fiery anger. He nodded, his expression despondent.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "If I could do what my instincts keep telling me, I'd have nabbed half the bad guys in DC this week. Instead I get to offer 'suggestions' and watch as they keep killing people while everyone else chases after their tails." Temperance saw the cushion in his lap crumple in his powerful grip, the muscles of his jaw jumping furiously. Her anger evaporated, leaving her feeling drained once more, and she laid her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax beneath her cheek and allowed herself to concentrate on the warmth of his skin.

"What do we do?" she asked softly. His arm settled across her back and began making soothing circles on her skin.

"I don't know. Plough on, I guess," he said. Her eyes drifted closed at the pleasant sensation.

"That doesn't sound like us," she muttered. His torso hitched in a deep chuckle at her words.

"No, it doesn't. What else can we do, though? We say anything and I lose my job or get put into mandatory therapy and our partnership goes down the drain. Then where will we be?" he said. Temperance felt her chest constrict at the thought and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Alone," she said, her words almost inaudible. She heard his breath pause before continuing.

"Never," he growled. She felt his finger lift her face toward his and the determination she saw there momentarily shocked her. "I can't do this alone, Temperance," he whispered, a sudden deep-seated spark of fear showing in his chocolate depths. Temperance allowed a warm smile to flicker across her lips as she drew herself up and wrapped her arms around him.

"Me either," she muttered. He was her lifeline, her rock. The only one who understood how it felt. "Together?" she asked, hating the waver that appeared in her voice. His was low and firm as he replied.

"You and me against the world, Bones. Forever," he said. They fell asleep clutching each other as if they were drowning.


	10. Chapter 10

Déjà Vu Chapter 10

Déjà Vu Chapter 10

Author's Note: Hey guys, someone pointed out to me that I was being an ass. I will continue to write, I'd just like a little more feedback, is all. Don't feel you **have** to review, but I will definitely appreciate your opinions. Writer's thrive on feedback, so all I'll do is just say this: please review!!

Oh, and as a present for sticking by me, here's a second chapter today!

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

"Here," Temperance said, thrusting a steaming mug of coffee into her partner's hands. Gratefully he took it and brought it to his face, taking a deep breath to savour the heady aroma and bring him back into the world of the living. After a few moments, Seeley raised his head and gave Temperance a pained smile.

"Thanks, Bones," he said. She stayed silent, allowing her amusement to show in the twinkling of her eyes and a single elegantly arched eyebrow. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, "laugh away. You don't feel like you've not slept in a week." Temperance quirked a grin around the coffee cup.

"You only have yourself to blame for falling asleep in that position, Booth, and you know it. You could have gotten up and moved to the spare room, you know." Seeley laughed derisively.

"As if either one of us could have moved. We were exhausted," he pointed out. He ignored the flash of amusement he saw in her eyes at the innuendo and blithely carried on. "Felt good to get it out, though," he admitted. "Guess shrinks do have the right of it sometimes, after all." Temperance made a non-committal sound and rose to remove the croissants from her grill.

"Hungry?" she asked. Seeley nodded, and then made a face when confronted with the buttery breakfast food.

"Yeah, but not for that junk. Do you ever have any real food?" he complained. Sporting a small smile, she pointed a dirty knife at him threateningly.

"Stop whining, you're not five. In fact, I believe your son whines less than you do. So, unless you want me to kick you out, be quiet and I'll see what I have. I wasn't expecting to have a guest, you know," she said. Seeley looked offended at the insinuation his son was more mature, but wisely decided to stay silent.

"Don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush? My mouth feels like I ate a carpet," he said. Temperance failed to conceal a snort of mirth and waved her knife at him again.

"Please don't say things like that at the lab. Angela would have a field day," she said. Seeley felt his cheeks go pink but rallied and rolled his eyes.

"Please, I'm surprised you know what that means," he said. Her answering grin was wicked.

"You forget, Booth, I have a healthy sex life. I know what all kinds of things mean in the bedroom." She wiggled an eyebrow meaningfully, causing him to choke on a mouthful of coffee. She laughed and tore off a chunk of a croissant before popping it in her mouth.

"Are you flirting with me, Bones?" Booth asked. She scoffed and waived a hand negatively.

"Of course not, Booth. I'm just enjoying some friendly banter over breakfast. I'll stop if you like. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable," she said. Booth blinked and fancied he had almost imagined the ever-so-slight emphasis she had placed on the last word until he spotted the artful smirk hidden behind her mug.

"Don't worry about it, Bones, I'm man enough to handle things," he replied with a silky smile. She chuckled and shook her head. "So, breakfast? I'm starving!" he enthused. Gracing him with a smile, she rose and crossed to her cupboards.

"I have muesli, some French toast, cereal bars…not much else I'm afraid," she said, her voice muffled by the hardwood doors. Seeley sighed and placed his head in his hands.

"Not even corn flakes?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Unless you'd like a potato for breakfast, no, nothing else," she replied dryly.

"Guess I'll have to have the foreign fancy stuff," he muttered, nodding his head at her half-eaten croissant. Giving him an apologetic smile, Temperance loaded the last of the croissants onto the grill and the small in-built timer.

"Sorry. I'll buy you something later for next time," she said and resumed eating her croissant. Seeley wondered if she knew that she had given him carte-blanche to stay over whenever or not. Shrugging the thought away, he hunkered down over his coffee and greedily drank in its scent again.

"Mmmm…you do great coffee, Bones," he cooed, a blissful smile on his face. She shrugged.

"It keeps me going. Especially these days," she added darkly. Seeley shared a solemn look with her and nodded in commiseration.

"Yeah, I get that. I know that I'm really toeing the line at the Bureau these days. Cullen'll soon take me aside and tell me to stop poking my nose in. I'm getting some pretty nasty looks from the other agents whenever I come near their ready rooms. My casual 'hints' aren't welcome any more." He sighed. "Apparently being a 'brilliant' agent is a bad thing, these days." Temperance offered him a conciliatory smile.

"I understand. Just look at it from their perspective. If a senior agent came over whilst you were on your case and casually remarked on something that was staring you in the face for hours or days, you wouldn't be happy about it if it began to happen all the time. You'd feel as if he was attempting to steal all the lime-light," she said. Seeley grimaced and nodded as he ran a hand down his face.

"I know, but it's the only thing that's keeping me sane, Bones. Aside from you," he added candidly. "Having to jump through all the hoops to catch guys I know are guilty as soon as I lay eyes on 'em is a nightmare. Do you know how many cases I have that I don't get to involve you guys in?" he asked. Temperance shook her head.

"About three-quarters of all of my cases I have no reason to call you in on. It's driving me batty, not having anyone to tell all this stuff. At least you have the guys at the lab," he said tiredly. Temperance pursed her lips, but refrained from speaking, knowing her partner had to vent. "I just want to pull you guys in, but I can't find a reason that'll pass muster," he admitted.

Temperance laced her fingers together and thought carefully before answering.

"Booth, I know you want to get us involved, but I think it might be risking too much," she said. Seeley frowned at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What I mean is, you know how things will play out, right?" she waited for his answering nod of confirmation before continuing, "Then if you introduce something that could change things a great deal, wouldn't it stand that something you expected to happen could not? And then something worse could happen, and so-on and so-on." Her partner gazed at her with a horrified expression on his face that disappeared behind his large hands.

"Shit, why is nothing ever easy?" he muttered. She knew it was rhetorical, but answered anyway.

"Because it's life, Booth. Just look at the two of us. Every day is a struggle," she pointed out. He nodded, but looked even wearier than before. "Look on the bright side," she said, "we still need to go shopping for a new fridge." He chuckled and gazed at her warmly for a moment, making her feel the slow prickling of a blush steadily rise up her neck before he spoke.

"Thanks, Bones," he murmured.

"You're welcome," she said, rising to clear away her mess and bring the toasted croissants to her partner. Ten minutes passed in companionable silence before the familiar chirp of her partner's cell phone pierced the comfortable quiet. Diving for his jacket tossed carelessly over Temperance's lounger, Seeley managed to pick up after an impromptu display of juggling his keys and phone at once, bringing the small device up to his ear.

"Booth," he said crisply, and then listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "You sure? Where? Okay, fine. I'll be there in ten." Flipping the phone shut, he tossed a grin at his partner who stood at the entry to the kitchen, croissants balanced on an upraised hand. "Bones," he announced, "we have a case." She rolled her eyes and transferred her gaze to the plate she held in her hand.

"I guess these are 'to go' then?" she said. He nodded and retrieved her jacket.

"Where's your kit?" he called, glancing around for the forensics equipment.

"In my car!" Came the muffled response. Seeley rolled his eyes and briefly scuttled around the apartment picking up his partner's things she would invariably demand to come back for, dropping the smaller items into her voluminous purse. "I just have to get…oh. Um, thanks, Booth," Temperance said, looking faintly surprised as he hovered near her apartment door holding her handbag and jacket.

"Just call me Mr Congeniality," he joked, handing her the items and filching the small, plastic lunchbox from her hands as he did so.

"I don't know what that means," she muttered as they exited and she locked up. Seeley opted to remain silent; a small, content little grin on his face. "You look happier," she observed. "I didn't know you liked my croissants quite that much." His grin grew and he slung an arm over her shoulder.

"It's a good start to a day," he said in lieu of explanation. She eyed him disapprovingly.

"It's a good day when someone is found murdered?" she asked. He frowned and spoke just as the lift doors opened.

"No! God, Bones, what the hell? No, I meant that it was a nice start to the day. Coffee and breakfast with a friend. Jeeze." Temperance blinked.

"Oh. Yes, I concur," she said. His frown abruptly morphed into a smile again as he assumed a snooty air.

"Oh yes, a spot of tea, what?" he said, the fake upper-class English accent sounding horribly contrived. Temperance sighed and crossed to her car.

"You are a big child," she accused, fighting to hide her smile at the affronted look her partner shot her.

"I am not!" he protested.

"Yes you are," she replied.

"Am not!" he said, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. Temperance merely poked the top of her head over the roof of her car and eyed him witheringly in response.

"Are you going to wear that to the scene?" she asked, her eyes dipping down to linger appreciatively on his t-shirted chest. "It's not very professional." Seeley glanced down at his jeans and sneakers guiltily and shuffled.

"Well it'd take too long to get to my place and then to the scene," he said. The flat look of her eyes told him the excuse wasn't flying. "Well what do you want me to say?"

"We're going to your place," she stated, finally locating her field kit and blue hazard gear and hauling them off of the back seat of her sports car. Booth looked ready to object, but gave it up for a bad job and headed to his SUV.

Ten minutes later, he hopped down the hall of his apartment, frantically tugging on a sock and his shirt at the same time. Landing awkwardly from a hop, he managed to eek out a yelp before his face met the floor with a decidedly embarrassing splat.

"Ow," he murmured. His sensitive ears suddenly picked up a muffled sound and his head shot up to peer over the back of his couch. Upon seeing him emerge with one bright sock perched jauntily on the top of his head, Temperance gave in and collapsed against the wall laughing. "Thanks, Bones. Way to make a guy feel better. Can you help me out? We're late as it is!" he groused.

Failing to smother a grin, Temperance approached as he lumbered to his feet and set about helping him to button his shirt.

"So what was it I was saying about your son being more mature than you earlier?" she asked rhetorically. "And now I'm dressing you. Should I bring a diaper next time?"

"Are you going to be dressing me, more often, Bones?" Seeley interjected dryly, shooing away her hands as they approached his stomach. "I asked for your help, not to do my buttons for me," he added, seeing the rising blush on his partner's face.

"Shut up, Booth," Temperance said, retreating to the safety of the front door. He smirked and finished looping his Donald Duck tie before tucking his shirt into his suit trousers. She glared in response and crossed her arms under her chest.

"Score for the Boothster," Seeley muttered gleefully to himself. Temperance narrowed her eyes at the overheard comment.

"I was under the impression that 'scoring,'" she quoted, "was far more impressive and involved an exchange of bodily fluids. You, most assuredly, have _not_ scored, Booth." He stared, momentarily stunned into immobility as he shrugged on his suit jacket, before speaking.

"Okay, we are so not doing this now," he said, forcefully pushing her back and out the door.

"Booth! Get your hands off me! Hey!" Temperance said, her outraged voice echoing along the hall. "Stop pushing!"

"We're late, Bones! Will you get moving?" Seeley said, gently propelling his partner before him until she dug in her heels and glared at him over her shoulder. "Don't do this now, Bones, please?" he begged. She huffed indignantly before acquiescing silently. "Atta girl, Bones," he said cheerfully, his body moving on autopilot to pat her on the buttocks. They froze, Temperance's head slowly revolving until her wintry glare pinned him in place.

His hand jerked back as if it had been burned and he stared at it as if it had betrayed him. His eyes lifted to his partner and he essayed a weak smile.

"Sorry, Bones," he stammered. A soft growl met his ears. Swallowing, Seeley lifted his hands and pointed down the hall. "Late?" he tried, his eyes darting nervously to the balled fists of the woman in front of him.

"This is _not_ over, Seeley Booth!" Temperance snarled after him as he fled down the corridor.

"I'm sorry!" he called back, picking up the speed of his walk until he was trotting. It would not be a pleasant drive.

Ten minutes later, and Seeley was praying for an act of god to strike him dead. The atmosphere in the SUV was so frigid he was surprised he didn't get frostbite.

"I said I was sorry, Bones," he ground out. Chilly silence was his answer, his partner preferring to glare furiously out the windscreen. "Okay, just what is it you're so angry about? This isn't just about a pat on the ass," he demanded. A glance to the side confirmed that, yes, she was now glaring at him and yes, she really did look like she wanted him dead.

"You were patronising! 'Atta girl, Bones?' You…" she trailed off, obviously too angry to say anything else without descending into profanity. "That was one of the most chauvinistic, demeaning things you've ever done!" she continued.

_Obviously she can talk without swearing,_ he mused wryly.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't think when I did it, okay?" he paused. "And why aren't you more angry at the- y'know what? Never mind. Let's just say I was a sexist pig and leave it at that, okay?" Temperance stared at him, mystified for a moment, before her logical mind deconstructed his statement and focused on a particular segment.

_The pat,_ she realised,_ he thinks I'm mad about the pat._ In truth it was something she barely registered. She was used to his touches, like the hand at the base of her back, and thought little of it. a part of her acknowledged that it was even a little pleasant. But his words had implied ownership, not something she would let go easily. She sighed and returned her gaze to the road ahead, feeling too stubborn to just let it go without a fight, despite knowing he had truly spoken without thought.

_Damn_, she thought to herself, _I can't stay mad over something so trivial_.

"Fine," she said aloud, "just…don't do it again." She covered a wince by looking out the passenger window. That had sounded weak, even to her. A warm hand on her own startled her out of her thoughts.

"It won't. I am sorry, Bones," Seeley said, his eyes earnest. Temperance mentally stomped on the slight fluttery feeling the look evoked and wrestled away the urge to smile at his proclamation. Instead she merely nodded and returned her gaze to the road ahead. Unbeknownst to her, Seeley had spotted the flash of affection that had appeared in her eyes and the tiny upward curl of the corner of her mouth and felt himself beaming thoughtlessly at nothing as he drove.

_Stupid feelings,_ he thought, unable to stop grinning. The thought of '_what feelings?'_ immediately chased it before he brutally quashed the thought just as they pulled up at the scene. They stared at the flaming devastation numbly, the horribly familiar and unwanted sensation crawling over their flesh until Temperance frantically groped in her kit behind her and vomited into a plastic container.

Feeling his own stomach surge rebelliously, Seeley made a noise of protest and clapped his hand over his mouth, desperately seeking to avoid bringing up his breakfast. After a moment, the intense sensations passed and he sagged, panting and feeling his skin prickle with sweat.

"Shit," he muttered and leaned over to rub circles on his partner's back. "You okay?" Temperance glanced up, her face ashamed, and nodded.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice scratchy. "That was a bad one," she murmured. He nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Still, at least we're on form," he said. Temperance grimaced and located a discarded napkin sitting on the back seat with which to wipe her face.

"So, the victim is Hamid Masruk?" she said. He nodded.

"Yeah, and his fanatic brother Farid." He sighed. "Let's go nail a bad guy, Bones."

"Sure," she said. With a last glance at each other, they stepped out into the flaming chaos.

Author's Note: Many thanks to all my reviewers! I am currently combing through my emails and will be replying to you shortly :D


	11. Chapter 11

Déjà Vu Chapter 11

Disclaimer: "BONES" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION. Some dialogue and cases will be taken from the series, but character interactions will certainly be different!

Author's note: Sorry for the wait! Had to wait ages for the fourth season to catch up due to retarded mid-season breaks! Plus I'm a lazy SOB. Let me know what you think, if you would! I've also activated anonymous reviews, so feel free to review if you've not done so because of that before! I'll stop with the slightly hyper exclamation marks now.

"So," Seeley muttered, "four in a row eh, Bones?" The rumpled looking anthropologist glowered, her eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.

"Yes, Booth," she replied, "four in a row. And two months of near sleepless nights!" she added, snarling viciously. Seeley wet his lips slowly, easily recognising the signs of a frustration-fuelled tantrum of epic proportions on the horizon.

"I'm not faring any better," he pointed out, his eyes dropping to her lip as it curled upwards in an unattractive sneer. _Oh dear,_ he thought to himself, _better head this off quick._ "Don't start on me, Bones," he said. "You think my life's been peachy keen these past two months?"

"Easier than mine! I've gone crazy!" she said.

"Crazy is killing your neighbour's cats for kicks, Bones," Seeley said. "We've just gone completely crackers from the pressure."

"Oh and what do you suggest we do, then?" Temperance sniped from her position on his lounger.

"We take a vacation?" he suggested.

"And go where?" she replied. "Do what? What guarantee do we have that we've not done it all before!? It doesn't even work the same any more!" she yelled, her voice rising to a shrill howl at the end. "We used to see or hear something that would trigger it. Now it's a smell, a place, a call, a time, a piece of clothing! I can't do this! It's not rational!"

"I know!" Seeley finally snapped, slamming his empty coffee cup onto his table angrily. "I. Know!" he repeated heatedly. "but what do you want me to do, Bones? Huh? You don't think I'm going to pieces too?" _God,_ he thought to himself_, did we really think we could handle this?_ They stared at each other furiously for several moments before both sagged, once again drained of whatever energy they could work up to begin arguing.

"This isn't working," Temperance whispered. Seeley dropped his head onto the back of his couch wearily.

"No," he agreed, "it's not. But what can we do?" Getting completely drunk had worked the first few times they had tried, but then the dreams had begun. Slowly at first, then more and more often until every time one of them rested their eyes they were once again replaying their terrifying endless fall or last moments.

And they weren't the same last moments either. "How many times d'you figure we've died? In our dreams, I mean," Seeley idly asked after the silence stretched out. Temperance gave an unladylike snort and fixed him with a ghoulish glare, enhanced by her drawn, exhausted complexion.

"I'm not sure. There was the fridge," she started.

"Shot five different times," Seeley said. Temperance nodded in agreement, ticking them off on her fingers.

"Buried alive," she said, holding up another finger. Seeley grimaced and scrubbed at his face.

"Blown up," he added.

"Twice," Temperance stated.

"Poisoned."

"Yup. Hit by a car," Temperance said.

"Shot some more," Seeley muttered. "God. How many of them do you think are real? Just one? Or do you think they all happened?" Temperance looked sick at the idea and raked a hand through her hair.

"I don't know, Booth," she said, "I just don't know. Not a lot makes sense any more. Except the science," she amended. Seeley grinned slightly in her direction with a listless loll of his head.

"I don't think that'll ever change," he pointed out. She sighed and essayed a weak smile.

"I hope not," she said. The duo paused for a few minutes, gathering their energy once more. "So when do you have Parker next?" she asked.

"Next weekend, " Seeley said, his lips curling into a fond smile at the thought of the energetic boy. "We're going to the baseball cages," he confided.

"I thought you liked football more?" Temperance said.

"Well," Seeley waffled, "I kinda like 'em all, Bones, remember?" he prodded, reminding her of her five minute rant earlier in the day about alpha male tendencies, sport and her general low opinion of men in general. To his delight, she flushed guiltily and hid her eyes with one hand.

"I've been as bad as a fishwife, haven't I?" she admitted, sounding horribly embarrassed. Seeley allowed an amused grin to blossom on his stubbled face.

"Yeah, pretty much. I gotta say, Bones, I never pictured you as the totally bitchy type, but you can be real good at it." An evil glare and a high velocity coaster were his rewards, but they gave a much needed reprieve from the angst they were so successfully wallowing in.

"You were bitchier," Temperance muttered, levering herself out of the lounger and sashaying over to the window. Seeley felt his eyebrows rise incredulously.

"Really?" he drawled. "So who was it again who bawled me out in front of the on-site team and questioned me on whether my family had inter-bred with Himalayan llamas?" The slow pink flush that crept up the back of her neck in response was all the answer he needed. "Mmm," he mused smugly, "thought so."

"I was having a bad day," she answered, though the excuse was a weak one. Knowing that pushing it any more would re-ignite her wonderfully volatile temper, Seeley nodded without a word. Temperance flashed him a swift and grateful smile as she settled once again in the lounger.

"You love that chair," he said, marvelling at how her bright blue eyes seemed to darken with affection as she gazed fondly at the armrest.

"It's comfortable," she explained.

"That's why I bought it, Bones," Seeley returned. "Not that I ever get to sit in it anymore."

"Oh shut up," Temperance said, "and get to why you called me here at," she glanced at her watch, "three in the afternoon on a Sunday."

"Alright, fine," Seeley said, "spoil my fun. I wanted to see if you wanted to meet Parker next weekend," he said in a rush, leaving his partner blinking owlishly at him.

"Me? Meet Parker?" Temperance said.

"Yes, Bones. You meet Parker. Next weekend." Booth said, slowly. "What, you don't want to?" he asked.

"No! I mean, no, that's not it. But I, I mean, I don't know how to deal with children," she finished lamely. Seeley propped a cheek on his left hand and stared at her, amused.

"Bones, you're happy to confront killers in their own home and fight against dictatorships by uncovering war crimes, but you're afraid of a six year old?" _Ah, the glower is back_, he mused.

"I look terrible," Temperance excused.

"So do I, Bones," Seeley reminded.

"I could accidentally say something offensive about your religion," she said.

"Still not gettin' out of it, Bones," he said, smirking smugly when her head dropped in defeat.

"Damn," she muttered. "Do you really think that it's a good idea? We've still come no closer to finding out why on earth this is happening," she said. Seeley grunted.

"I know, Bones. We've just gotta find the common thread here, that's all. Once we find that, then we have something to go on. And you know what we're like when we've got something to go on, right?" Grunting in reply, the curtain of her hair that obscured her face parted to show a fond grin.

"Yeah," she admitted. Though she looked as if she hadn't bothered to look after herself for weeks and could have passed for a corpse in a morgue considering how pale she was, Seeley still felt his heart thud in his chest at the raw affection he briefly saw gazing back at him before her hair veiled her eyes and she lurched to her feet.

"I guess we'd better get started then," she grumbled, marching down the hallway toward his bathroom.

"Bones? Where're you going?" he called. Her voice drifted back lazily down the hall.

"Taking a shower," she said. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Bones, I have no problem with you using my shower!" he called, "thanks for asking!"

"You would've said yes anyway," she said.

"Its called 'being polite,' Bones!"

"Sorry," she replied, her voice muffled by the distance and her clothing. In the ensuing silence he strained his ears and faintly heard the sound of her clothes hitting the floor, reminding him that she was naked as the day she was born only a few metres away.

"Jesus Christ, you punish me so," he muttered, eyeballing the wooden crucifix attached to one wall. He contemplated the fact that he was both happy and disappointed that he hadn't managed to see his partner naked again and for the umpteenth time wondered just what they were supposed to be doing if they really were sent back in time from their deaths. "This is useless," he muttered, pulling the plug on his pointless conjecture.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Temperance leant against the doorjamb of her partner's bedroom. The last of her clothing piled neatly at the foot of his bed. She chewed her lip for a moment, warring silently over her conflicting impulses. She had contemplated becoming intimate with Booth before, of course, but never had it held such a recipe for possible disaster.

If it didn't work, then not only could she possibly alienate a good friend and partner, but she could lose the only person who understood exactly what it was she was going through. She sighed and pushed off of the wall to walk toward her partner's bathroom, idly enjoying the feel of the warm air flowing over her body. It was for that reason that she occasionally walked naked around her own home, though she had not done it now for nearly eight months due to trip to Guatemala and the high likelihood of Booth coming into her apartment at an inopportune moment.

Temperance felt her lips quirk in an amused smile as she pictured the astonished look on his face whilst she began to run the shower, her nipples puckering in excitement as she imagined the shocked look fading to rampant appreciation.

"Damn," she muttered aloud, realising that her idle thoughts had strayed into fantasy. Though a pleasant past time, it was a distraction they could not afford at the moment.

She stepped into the shower, humming softly in her throat as the pressurised hot water feverishly worked to soothe her aching muscles and bone deep weariness. She knew, through much practice, that the second would only be cured with a night of uninterrupted sleep.

"If wishes were fishes," she mumbled, dropping her chin and revelling in the feel of the water on her body. She made a wordless sound of frustration as she realised another reason for her ire. She had never gone so long without sex. The sound stuck in her throat and mutated into a snarl as she felt her hands tighten into fists for several heartbeats until she relaxed. "Once this is over," she promised herself, "I'm going to have an epic-"

A knock on the door made her jump.

"Hey, Bones? You okay?" her partner's voice drifted through. Her mind made the connection far faster than she would have liked, considering her previous fantasies.

"Fine!" she squeaked, staring at the door with wide eyes. There was a pause, long enough that she wondered if he had withdrawn before he spoke again.

"Oh, uh, sorry, Bones," he said. Temperance blinked, registering the heavy embarrassment that saturated his tone. "I didn't mean to disturb you. Ah, carry on!" the beginnings of an incredulous smile crept across her face as she realised that he thought she had been busy pleasuring herself to relieve her tension. She admitted it wasn't a bad idea, but she needed to at least get clean first. It couldn't have been more than five minutes at the most. Did he think she was some kind of sex addict?

Though the thought was irritating, the amused smile remained in place for the rest of her shower as she scrubbed away the accumulated grime and sweat. She couldn't blame him, really, especially after their blatant sexual rapport at the beginning of the whole misadventure, something that had rapidly fallen to the wayside as they struggled to cope with their situation.

Temperance sighed mournfully as she scrubbed at her hair with Booth's luxuriously thick towel, realising that by now Angela and the others were in the midst of a worried conference over their well-being. That meant Monday would be a true nightmare of epic proportions as her best friend hovered fretfully nearby. 'just in case.'

Running the towel over her body, Temperance paused and glanced at the deep maroon pile in her hands. She was using Booth's favourite towel. Oh dear. After a moment she shrugged and continued on as she was. He would be fine with it, she knew. Besides, though he had set aside a towel for her should she wish to indulge, he could still use it himself, couldn't he? Nodding to herself, she grabbed the secondary towel he had thoughtfully given her for her hair and settled it around her head, twisting and folding it until she stood upright and caught her reflection in the mirror.

_I look like some sort of Amazonian queen,_ she thought in amusement as she turned this way and that, admiring the perkiness of her breasts and imagining that the towel that rose like some form of fabric tower from her head was a crown. Briefly she fought the wicked impulse to go out as she was, but caution won out and she secured Booth's towel around her body snugly, creating a significant valley between the swell of her breasts.

That done, she glanced one last time around her partner's bathroom before opening the door and darting out toward his bedroom. A few moments later she realised her error.

"Booth?" she called down the hall.

"Yeah?" his voice drifted back a moment later. Temperance sighed, cursing her own exhaustion that made her make such silly mistakes.

"I have no clean underwear," she explained. "Can I borrow some?" she felt silly asking, but the alternative was not to wear any, and that definitely was not an option.

"Why the hell would I have women's underwear?" his voice demanded indignantly. Temperance fought a smile.

"I wasn't asking for women's underwear, Booth. It would be Tessa's. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?"

"I don't have it anyway! So, uh, what do you want me to do?" he asked after a significant pause.

"Do you have any briefs?" she asked.

"No," he replied. Temperance chewed her lip again.

"What about, um, what about boxers?" she called.

"Yeah I have some. Second drawer down by the bedside," Booth's voice came back. Temperance dropped the towel and rummaged through the designated drawer, absently cataloguing just what type of underwear her partner normally wore.

"Black, black, navy, red, white, white, striped, oh here we go," she muttered, holding up a pair victoriously that showed a stylised cartoon man with a fig leaf over his groin. Underneath, words proclaimed the wearer a 'Sex God.' Sniggering to herself, she stepped into them and settled them around her hips, noting that due to his size, they were much too large for her and rode dangerously low on her hips.

Glancing at her dirty laundry, Temperance lifted out her bra and eyed it critically. While she was no snob, having worn the same clothes for weeks at a time in mass grave excavations in the past, she certainly was not one to do so without a reason. That decided, she dropped the offending article back into the pile and shrugged on her shirt, buttoning it with care and checking herself over before peeking out the door, her hair still up in its cloth prison.

"It's only for a moment," she encouraged herself, rationalising that it wouldn't have been anything he hadn't seen before and that she was wearing clothes anyway. Or some, at least. "Right," she said, striding confidently down the hall toward her bag that contained a fresh bra, part of her field kit she took in case a scene got messy and ruined whatever she had on at the time.

Her determination evaporated when she entered the lounge to find him staring at her with something akin to shock, his eyes firmly below her eye line.

"Those're my…uh!" he snapped out of his surprise and swiftly presented his back to her. "God, Bones! Put on a bra for crying out loud!" he demanded. Temperance blinked and glanced down at herself, feeling chagrined when she realised the cooler air of the hall had made her lack of a bra very apparent.

"Damn," she muttered. "You weren't supposed to see," she apologised as she gathered up her bag and rooted around in it until she found the plain white bra. He spluttered in the background, eyeing her incredulously from the corner of his eye.

"Weren't supposed to…!? Bones, when a girl-"

"Woman," she interrupted firmly.

"Jesus, Bones! Fine! When a woman doesn't wear a bra guy's notice! Especially if it's white!" Silently Temperance admitted he was right.

"Well, never mind," she said. "I have it now. Besides," she added, "you've seen me naked." With those parting words, Seeley heard her retreat down the corridor.

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

After a slightly awkward lunch prepared in Booth's small kitchen, the duo eyed each other warily over the small collection of files and the small laptop perched atop the coffee table.

"So, Bones, what do we know?" Seeley started. Temperance frowned in deep thought and picked up a nearby notepad.

"The dreams all have a common thread, except the falling dream," she said.

"Right, us dying," Seeley supplied. Temperance nodded and pointed the pen in her hand toward him.

"Yes, but were those deaths linked?" she asked.

"What, like a connecting reason for us to buy the farm?" he said. Temperance gave him a quizzical look.

"What does buying land have to do with anything?" she asked. Seeley rolled his eyes.

"It's a term that means 'to die,' Bones," he explained, seeing the understanding dawn in her eyes.

"Oh! I see. Uh, yes, that was what I was asking," she said. Seeley leant back into his couch and idly rubbed at his stubble thoughtfully for several moments.

"Nah, I can't think of anything that would connect them," he admitted. "Can you?" Temperance shook her head.

"No, each seems to be directly confined to the cases we were working on at the time," she said.

"Back to square one," Seeley murmured. "What about if we list off all of the deaths and corresponding investigations? That way we'll at least be able to look at something, like at the office with the boards," he added. "You've seen them, right?" Temperance felt justified in allowing her face to convey her disparagement. "Yeah, of course you've seen them," she heard Booth mutter to himself. "Stupid."

"It's not stupid, Booth," she said. "We're exhausted from lack of sleep and the pervading paranoia that we will experience déjà vu at any moment that will bring us to our knees from nausea. Double checking is just prudent investigation," she added. His brown eyes glinted with gratitude for a moment before he cast around for a reasonable facsimile.

"We really need that board," he said.

"I agree. I have one at the lab in my office. I just don't tend to use it much," she explained.

"Awesome. Shall we?" he asked, flamboyantly gesturing to the front door. Temperance chuckled softly as she gathered her bags and coat.

"Oh, let me get my toothbrush," she said, moving to replace her bag and fetch the item from down the hall.

"Forget it, Bones. You're here most of the time anyway, right? Or vice versa. Reckon I should leave one at yours?" he asked, squinting at her thoughtfully. She shrugged.

"Don't see why not. It makes sense, after all," she said.

"Right. Buy a spare toothbrush. Better put that on the list," Seeley said.

"There's a list? What list?" Temperance asked as they made their way out the door.

"Never mind, Bones. It's just a thing," Seeley replied.

"What thing? Booth? I don't know what that means!"

-*-

"Are we allowed to take this back to your place?" Seeley asked as he glanced at the large white board awkwardly lodged in the back of his Tahoe.

"There's no reason why we should not be allowed to take it," Temperance returned, deftly avoiding the legality of the issue.

"Sure, Bones, as if that'll fly. And won't Angela be furious that we snuck in and out again without talking to her?" he said.

"She'll be fine. She won't stay angry for long," Temperance soothed.

"At you," Seeley muttered, missing the faint grin that hovered at the edges of his partner's mouth. "And how come we do this at yours again?" he asked.

"Because my apartment is bigger," she replied. "I find that room to pace makes things a lot less stressful when pondering a conundrum." Seeley made an agreeing face.

"Okay, fine. But we're stopping to get takeout. None of that pansy food you have at your place. And we're getting Captain Crunch!" he said.

"Planning on staying over?" she lilted, glancing at him sideways. The way her eyes lidded meaningfully at him made him pause.

"Uh, no, not planning to," he demurred, "just, you know, in case. Or for future occasions and stuff."

"I see," she said, her face telling him that she had drawn her own private conclusions.

"You see what, Bones?" he asked, glancing at her as he drove. "You see what? Oh come on! Don't do that, Bones!" he whined, spotting the smug curling of her lips.

"Don't forget the toothbrush," she reminded him airily.

"Fine," he huffed. "I won't."

-*-

"You forgot the toothbrush," Temperance pointed out as they settled the bag of shopping on her counter. Booth glared, annoyed at having done so because of his insistence on buying proper food.

"Thanks for letting me know when we were at the supermarket, Bones," he groused.

"I was paying," she reminded him. "You were packing." Seeley just grunted and went to set up the whiteboard near her stereo. He eyed it for a moment before shaking his head and dismissing it as a distraction. "You want a drink?" he heard his partner ask.

"You got a cold beer?" he asked.

"Yeah, give me a sec." She arrived a few moments later carrying two bottles and handed one over.

"You're a life saver," he stated, taking a long pull and savouring the cool taste as it trickled down his throat.

"Not when you count the number of times we die each night," she said dully. He glanced at her to find her staring at the new bright red refrigerator they had purchased the month before. He gently grasped her elbow and gave it a squeeze to draw her attention.

"We've got another chance," he said softly. "We're fine. We have an idea of what's coming and we just need to work out why we're here. It can't be just to solve the cases and not die. That doesn't make sense. God doesn't make exceptions for just two people, no matter how great they are. You know that and I know that. Good people die all the time. We just gotta stay focused, Bones, okay?" She took a deep breath and gave him a firm smile.

"Okay," she echoed. "So, do you want to go first? I'm not that good at conjecture," she said. Seeley grinned and picked up two pens.

"Black one is me, red one is you, okay?" he said. Temperance made an agreeing noise and took the red pen from his hand. "Good. So, we write down what we can remember from the case and who died. If it was both of us then we write it in green. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Temperance said.

"Cool. Okay, so the first one I can remember is…uh."

"Burned to death," Temperance murmured, "on the Eller case. That was me."

"What? You never told me that!" he said in outrage. Temperance shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? Besides, I'm almost positive there are ways you've died that I don't know about." Her eyes bore into his own until he looked away, feeling guilty. "See?" she said. "So let's just write them down, okay?" Seeley nodded.

"Alright, fine. But we're gonna talk about this, Bones. Both of us."

Three quarters of an hour later found them staring at a long list.

"That's a lotta deaths, Bones," Seeley murmured, feeling chills crawling along his spine and seeping into his heart. A glance to his left showed his partner morbidly staring also, her face wan.

"Yeah," she quietly affirmed.

"I don't think that we want to talk about it," he said.

"No," she agreed. They continued to stare for several more minutes before things began to jump out and clamour for his attention.

"Hey, Bones," he murmured.

"Mmm?" she replied distractedly.

"See these two here?" he pointed at two lines written in green and waited for her answering nod. "Neither deaths were related to the case. One implicated a senator in a prostitution ring, another a pretty big pharmaceutical company, but we died in 'accidents.'" He quoted.

"You don't think they were accidents," Temperance said as she connected the dots.

"No, not even close. I mean, a car accident? Seriously? During an on-going investigation? Please," he mocked. "Anyone with half a brain would figure it out."

"But on both of those cases, it was only our combined expertise that allowed us to succeed in catching suspects," Temperance pointed out. "The nearest forensic anthropologist is in Montreal, remember?" Seeley licked his lips and flicked his eyes over the list again.

"Yeah. And these two as well," he said, pointing to another pair written in green. "All of them somehow tie to suspects who work for, or are somehow connected to the United States government."

"That's…worrying," Temperance admitted. Seeley finished his bottle to clear the dry sensation in his mouth.

"Yeah. Now we've just got to work out how it all ties together," he said.

"I think we already have," Temperance murmured.


End file.
